


The Yearly Retreat

by Alex8Jenny, JayTyHeyBye, NadiasGhost



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Chopped, Crack???, Disneyland, Drinking, Drunk confessions, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Germany is Holy Roman Empire, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oops I forgot about Ivan for a hot second, Paintballing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pray for Romano, RusAme if you squint, Sleepovers, Slow Burn, Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, Vacation, War flashbacks, We use their actual names, Wii Sports, idk what this is sorry, more will be added later - Freeform, ski resort ;), sleepover, spa, the slowest burn to ever burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex8Jenny/pseuds/Alex8Jenny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTyHeyBye/pseuds/JayTyHeyBye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiasGhost/pseuds/NadiasGhost
Summary: They all just need to bond.





	1. Disneyland - Italy

Feliciano let out an excited squeal the moment they were actually let into the park, and Ludwig felt his ears beginning to bleed. He heard another shriek from behind him, one that definitely came from Alfred, and a groan from Arthur.

“Stay on your-STOP TUGGING AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING BELLEND!”

“Arthur, please, there are children-”

“Shut your cock hole, Francis.” 

Feliciano turned towards him, and grabbed ahold of both of Ludwig’s hands tightly, attempting to drag him further and further into the park. 

“We have to go on space mountain and splash mountain and-OH! We HAVE to go meet the Disney Princesses-”

“Feli.”

“We CANNOT miss going on California Screaming-and DUMBO-”

“Feli.”

“And we can’t forget-”

“FELI!” 

Feliciano finally shut his mouth, and Ludwig finally got him to stop walking. 

“We will have time to do whatever you want. Alfred reserved the entire park, it will be fine. Slow down.”

The Italian pouted, but Ludwig seemed to have gotten through to him, because he nodded in defeat. 

“Can-can we go on Splash Mountain first?”

Ludwig sighed, squeezing the smaller hand affectionately.

“Yes, Feli. We can go on Splash Mountain first.” 

Feliciano’s smile returned wider than ever, and with yet another excited squeal, he dragged Germany further into the park. 

Behind them, near the front gates, Arthur was still holding the leash of a very aggressive Alfred, who was trying so desperately to break free from the stuffed eagle backpack he wore that had the clasp to the leash. Arthur was gripping it tightly in both hands, his eyes narrowed in the general direction of the friend he was keeping at bay. Francis was chuckling quietly beside him, his arms crossed over his chest which had a picture of toast wearing a red beret, and smoking a cigarette, with the caption “French Toast” on his shirt. Blond hair was tied back into a neat pony tail, and he had a wide, smirk on his face as he watched Arthur practically wrestling with the leash. 

Even further behind them was Gilbert, being accompanied by a very tired looking Matthew. The Canadian had looked the most relieved when Alfred told their group he had rented out the entire park. It meant no crowds, and no lines. It also meant that they needed a fucking buddy system, and after drawing names out of a hat, it had been:

Feliciano and Ludwig, Arthur and Alfred, Francis and Ivan (which was NOT happening, as Francis had stated multiple times), Yao and Kiku, and lastly, Matthew and Gilbert. 

Matthew didn’t mind, entirely. Gilbert was just kind of aggressive and in your face. Sure, it made his heart race at times, but Gilbert was really just a softie. Ludwig once yelled at him for not putting the milk back in the fridge, and Gilbert had a blanket around his shoulders and tears in his eyes for two and a half hours. 

The moment Gilbert saw the California Screamin’, Matthew knew he was a dead man walking. The taller man grasped tightly at his wrist, letting out an excited shriek about how they just HAD to go on it, and suddenly Matthew was being tugged along towards the entrance.

 

Ludwig wasn’t sure how he got himself to this point. He was with Feliciano in one of the boats to Splash Mountain, waiting for the start. Feliciano was gripping the bar that held them in place, vibrating excitedly in his seat, and Ludwig could hear him making soft noises every few moments.

Coming to Disneyland for a day had been Feliciano’s idea. He brought up the point that not everyone got along very well, and they needed to do something fun that would bring everyone together. He had thrown Disneyland onto the table, and the moment Alfred’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, they all knew it was a done fucking deal. 

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Ludwig asked him, furrowing his brow. Feliciano nodded, never once tearing his gaze away from the water ahead of them, waiting for the ride to start. 

“Of course! Grandpa Rome took me here once as a child and we went on The Splash Mountain!”

“Was Disneyland even around when Rome was alive?”

“OF COURSE! It’sa always been here!” 

Ludwig glanced at him hesitantly, but gave up the argument. If Feli says it’s always bee here, then, well, he must be kind of right? 

The ride suddenly lurched forward, and Feliciano screamed with excitement. Ludwig couldn’t help but flinch, though he had to fight back a quiet laugh that was bubbling in the back of his throat. He had never seen Feliciano this excited... this happy. Maybe Ludwig could try to have some fun for once too, right?

The ride was pretty boring, to be honest with you. Feliciano screamed at every small drop, and Ludwig would laugh quietly. It was only when they got to the top of the real, legit drop, that Ludwig couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

Feliciano must have noticed, because suddenly a smaller hand was wiggling it’s way into his larger one, clasping it tightly. 

“Don’t be scared, Ludwig! I am right here!”

“I’m not scared!”

Feliciano opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly they were being flung down the waterfall at full speed. Ludwig may or may not be ashamed to admit that they both screamed like small girls, and they now have a picture of both of them going down Splash Mountain, shrieking, and gripping the other’s hand.

 

Gilbert insisted that they sit in the front seat. Matthew had hesitated, before having the thought that maybe if he listened to Gilbert, they could go on the Small World ride afterward. They buckled themselves in, and it was only when the ride began to move that Matthew noticed how the colour was beginning to drain from the other’s cheeks.

He didn’t get a chance to actually ask if he was okay, because the roller coaster suddenly took off. The first little bit was okay. It was fast, but not so bad. They could both handle the first drop. Matthew was even starting to enjoy himself. However, when they reached the second tube, Matthew took a moment to glance over at Gilbert.

Purple eyes were squeezed shut, and he was white knuckling the safety bar. His entire body was trembling. What was Matt supposed to do? Gilbert had been the one who suggested the ride! He reached over and carefully put a hand on his friends knee, not having expected that Gilbert would wrap himself around his arm and bury his face in his shoulder.

“Just-just hold onto-onto me.”

The ride dropped, and both boys shrieked. Neither one really stopped screaming until the ride actually came to a stop at the end. When the safety belts released them, Matthew tried to nudge Gilbert with the arm he clung to.

“It’s-it’s over...”

Gilbert pulled away from him faster than a bullet, wiping his sleeve against his eyes as he bolted out of the carriage. Matthew quietly followed him, and when he noticed how Gilbert had his head hung and his arms crossed, he lightly nudged their shoulders together.

“Lets-Lets go to Small World? It’s fun.”

Gilbert looked down at him, and after a moment of contemplation, he gave the shorter boy a small smile, accompanied with a nod.

“Anything’s fun when I’m around.”

“O-of course, Gilbert.”

 

How Alfred had chewed through his leash was still absolutely amazing to Arthur. While Francis had suggested they look for him, Arthur had let out a grunt, waving his hand.

“He wants to be independent, let the little buggar be independent.” 

Francis and Arthur stared at each other for a moment, and Arthur was the first one to break the eye contact. 

“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

“You’re creepy.”

“Your face is creepy.”

They were facing each other now, and Francis glared, attempting to think of an insult.

He took a step forward, arms crossing, looking down at the other blond.

“You have ugly teeth, _Vieille chauve-souris_!"

“Well, you have greasy hair, you plonker!”

Arthur barely registered the fact that Francis had slapped him until he was staggering backwards, and his cheek was fucking burning. He straightened up quickly, launching himself at Francis.

“You’ll pay for that, you cockstain!”

The next thing they new, they were rolling around on the floor in a full blown fist fight in the middle of Disneyland.

“Take back what you said about my hair!”

“I’d rather drop dead!”

“You two should stop fighting!”

The cheery voice of Ivan caused both men to stop, dread filling both of them to the brim. They both glanced up to see Ivan smiling eerily at them, mickey mouse ears with his name atop his head. He was holding two more, one with each of their names on it as well. Arthur removed himself from on top of Francis, and after a moment, he reached out his hand to help the other up. Francis reluctantly took it, hauling himself to his feet. 

Ivan placed the hats upon their heads, and smiled a shuddersom smiling at the pair.

“You two stop fighting, yes?”

“Yes, Ivan.” they grumbled in unison, and Ivan finally turned to leave. It was only then that they realized Toris, Raivis, and Eduard were all on child leashes, being practically dragged along behind Ivan. They all looked miserable, and Francis could have sworn he saw tears in Raivis’s little eyes. Poor thing.

 

When the day was done, Ludwig was giving a sleeping Feliciano a piggyback ride. Alfred was munching on cotton candy, walking in between Francis and Arthur, smiling widely as he told them of his adventures. Francis was sporting a black eye, and Arthur's left cheek was still red, but they were both grinning down at Alfred as he spoke faster than either of them could hear. Gilbert was loudly talking near the back about his _triumph_ on California Screamin’, while Matthew was smiling softly to himself, keeping his mouth shut. Ivan had bought Mickey Mouse ears for everyone else, which they all quickly put on. 

When Ludwig had refused to put his on, Feliciano had decided to carry them for him.

Ludwig felt Feli shift slightly on his back, and this time when the black ears with his name on them were placed on his head, he simply smiled, and reached up to pull the strap down under his chin.


	2. Spa - France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Francis' turn to pick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by your main gay jay
> 
> I FORGOT TO WRITE IN IVAN AND ALFRED SORRY BOYS

The yearly bonding retreat was back upon them. After the “success” at Disneyland, it was time for someone else to pick the activity. The group sat around the conference table in complete silence for once, until Francis stood up on his chair, hands resting on his hips.

“We will go to the spa! I have declared it!” 

This then lead to a six hour van ride with a bunch of very tired, grumpy countries. When they finally got to the Spa Resort, Francis was first out of the van, a cocky smile on his face as he turned towards his companions.

“I have booked the entire hotel for our pleasure – now go in and enjoy yourselves, _mes amies_!”

 

Within the hour, everyone had split off into pairs do to their spa activities.

Antonio had somehow convinced Lovino to get a message. He may or may not have failed to tell him it was a couples massage, though.

Lovino was actually slightly looking forward to his massage. It was a moment to relax. He adjusted the fluffy white towel around his waist, exiting the change room. He let out a scream when he saw a half naked Antonio on one of the tables, and Lovino knew if the other man moved his leg even slightly, Lovino would see something he honestly did NOT want to see. The Italian quickly covered his eyes, though when he heard Antonio chuckle at the tomato-like blush that had spread across his face.

“C-Cover yourself up, you jerk bastard!”

Antonio hummed, laying down on his table. He flipped himself over on his stomach, winking at Lovino.

“I believe you are more naked than I am, _amigo_. Please, lay down on your table. The _masajista_ will be here soon!”

Reluctantly, Lovino came over and lay down on his own table. He was closer to Antonio’s table than he wanted to be, but maybe if he closed his eyes and went to his happy place, he could forget he was even fucking there. 

He heard the footsteps as the masseuses (masajista?)

and one of them stopped right beside his table. He opened his eyes to look back at them, only to see a blonde woman with the sweetest smile he had ever seen looking down at him.

“Try to relax.”

He shut his eyes again, and took a deep breath. He heard Antonio let out a relaxed sigh from beside him, and he tried to block him out. If Antonio could relax, so could he.

However, the second he felt hot as fuck rocks being placed just above his fucking ass, all bets were off the fucking table. 

He bolted up in an instant, knocking the masseuse away from him, and he knocked the rocks to the floor. He sat on his knees on the table, green eyes wide, anger flashing through them.

“What the fuck was that?!”

Antonio laughed, turning his head to look over at Lovino. His masseuse rushed over to help the other up off the ground, and Antonio took the moment to attempt to calm down his friend.

“This is the hot stone massage, Lovi! It helps the muscles.” 

“It fucking hurts! You knew it would hurt, you fucking bastard!”

“Lovino, try and breathe, and-”

“It burnt!”

“Lovino, listen-”

“I hate you!”

“Lovi!” the Italian boy finally shut up, his eyes narrowed at the other. Antonio smiled slightly, glancing down Lovino’s body.

“You might want to pick up your towel.”

 

All Ludwig and Feliciano heard was a loud shriek from down the hallway, and Feliciano hummed.

“That sounds like Lovi!”

“He sounds pained-”

“He always sounds pained. You will too, soon!”

“W-What?”

Feliciano smiled his signature smile, forcing Ludwig to sit down in a big, comfy, grey chair. Ludwig swallowed the lump in his throat, looking up at the other Italian.

“You’re going to get your legs waxed!”

“WHAT!?”

Ludwig tried to push himself to his feet, but suddenly he was being pushed back down, and Feliciano was sitting on his lap, his arms coming to wrap around his neck.

“Please Ludwig? It will be fun! Afterwards we can do whatever you want-I promise! Pinky promise, ya?”

Ludwig and Feliciano stared at each other for a long moment, though Ludwig was the first one to break the silence.

“Afterwards we go to our rooms and stay there. Yes?”

“Yes! Yes!” Feliciano got off his lap, and Ludwig finally noticed the spa employee that was kneeling by his legs. They simply stared at each other in silence, and Ludwig heard Feliciano clear his throat.

“You have to take off your pants, Ludwig!” 

“That is not happening, Feli.”

The moment Feliciano bent down and started to roll up Ludwig’s pant leg, the German knew he was a goner. He couldn’t say no to Feliciano, as much as he fucking wanted to. When the tiny Italian stood back up, he flashed Ludwig a smile, grabbing ahold of his hand. 

“You will look good! I wax my legs all the time!”

Hot wax was spread on a part of his calf, and Ludwig grimaced. When the paper strip was placed on top of the wax, the gravity of the situation hit him. He was about to get his fucking hair ripped out. He couldn’t help but squeeze the smaller hand in his own, and brace for the pain.

He could faintly hear Feliciano counting to three, before there was a loud ripping noise, followed by Ludwig’s scream of surprise. When he had caught his breath, eyes now wide, Feliciano patted him on the head.

“You did it! Now for the rest-”

“No-not happening-I am done!”

 

Yao and Kiku had both made an agreement in the van that the moment they got to the Resort, they would go to their room. Despite Francis having rented out the entire fucking hotel, he had still insisted that Yao and Kiku room together. Neither one actually minded, they enjoyed the other’s company, but everyone else got separate rooms. Kiku sometimes wondered if Francis forgot that he and Yao were related. He was pretty sure Francis was trying to set them up. 

Kiku was sitting cross legged on his bed, watching as Yao was beginning to unpack his small suitcase. Kiku got up from the bed, approaching the window in order to open the curtains. Yao turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the spa?”

“I am as sure as I can possibly be.” 

The two men stared at each other for a moment, and Yao was the one to break the silence.

“I heard Francis telling Ivan about his plan.”

“A plan?”

“The plan to set us up. Does he know we are brothers?”

Kiku took a moment to think, glancing back out the window. 

“He must be thicker than we thought.”

Kiku looked back at Yao when he heard the other beginning to laugh. 

“We will get him back, Kiku. Trust me when I say this.”

“I trust you.”

 

How Matthew was able to convince Gilbert to come out to the rooftop pool with him, he’d never actually know. They had gone upstairs to their individual rooms to get changed first, promising to meet the other up on the roof. 

Matthew got there first, wearing red swim-shorts, and a white t-shirt with a red maple leaf on it that Arthur had given him as a Christmas present last year. He was standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at his own reflection and making silly faces at himself. He could be funny if he tried, no matter what Kumajirou said! 

He suddenly felt two strong hands slamming into his back, and before he had time to react, Matthew was falling into the cold pool water. His glasses fell off, and when he surfaced, now soaking wet, the Canadian squinted, attempting to look at the blurry image of a cackling Gilbert.

“W-Why’d you do th-that?!”

Gilbert was doubled over, and he wiped the tears from his eyes. 

“I couldn’t resist! IT WAS SO EASY!”

Matthew couldn’t help but let out a quiet whine when he realized he couldn’t feel his glasses with his feet at the bottom of the pool. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t fucking see! What if he never found his glasses again? What if he was blind for the rest of his life? What was he supposed to do?

Gilbert must have noticed he was freaking out, because suddenly he was being lifted under the arms and hauled back onto the shore. He was seated on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling in the water, and he could faintly hear Gilbert’s stuttering over the sound of his own heavy breathing. 

There was a quiet splash, and the sound of water softly rippling. Matthew finally felt his glasses being placed back upon his face, and when he opened his eyes, a very concerned looking Gilbert was in the water, pulling his hands away from Matthew’s face.

Matthew tried to manage a small smile, eyes darting down to look at the water, and not at Gilbert.

“Th-Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“O-of course.”

“I mean it. Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have an awesome reputation to maintain.”

Matthew let out a quiet laugh, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw Gilbert smile.

 

Arthur thought he could have a quiet moment alone in the sauna. He was in his fluffy white towel, curled up in the corner of the room, eyes closed as the heat surrounded him. It was nice. Well, it was nice until he heard the door open and shut, and a familiar french chuckle.

“Mind if I join you, _mon ami_?”

“I do mind quite a bit, actually.”

Arthur opened his eyes to see Francis come to sit down beside him, crossing his legs and his arms simultaneously. Francis had his hair tied back in a messy bun, though there were still a few strands of blond hair that fell in front of his eyes, and Arthur scoffed.

“You can’t even tie a bun properly. Is there anything you can do?”

“I can do anything better than you, sir.”

“No you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t!”

“Yes I can!”

“WAIT!”

They were now face to face, dangerously close, and Arthur could smell the Blue Cheese and Crackers he had for lunch on the Frenchman’s breath.

“What?”

“This is from a musical.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not!”

“Stop that!” Arthur snapped, and he moved as far away from Francis as he possibly could in the tiny sauna. Francis laughed quietly, flicking the few strands of hair out of his eyes as he watched Arthur move away from him. 

“Do you think the Spa was a good idea?”

“What?”

When Arthur looked at Francis again, the blond was looking away. For a moment, he seemed worried. 

“I worry it is a step down from last year.”

Arthur hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react to this part of Francis. He pushed himself to his feet, and Francis looked at him when Arthur took his spot back down beside his colleague.

“It’s not necessarily as exciting as Disneyland, but I wouldn’t call it a step down. It’s...different.”

When Francis smiled at him, Arthur quickly looked away. He stood up again, adjusting the towel around his waist.

“That being said, anywhere you are is boring and dull.”

He made his way towards the door, just as Francis began to laugh.

“You love me, and you know it, _cheri_!”


	3. Ski Resort - Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Ivan had convinced everyone to go to an actual Ski Resort for this years vacation, no one was entirely sure. He had just sent a group email that told everyone to pack for the cold, and be ready to go at 6am the next day. Everyone, unsurprisingly, was ready to go at 6am the next morning.

How Ivan had convinced everyone to go to an actual Ski Resort for this years vacation, no one was entirely sure. He had just sent a group email that told everyone to pack for the cold, and be ready to go at 6am the next day. Everyone, unsurprisingly, was ready to go at 6am the next morning.

They had been at the Resort for a day now, and it was actually going quite well! Alfred had taken up most of his time by occupying the snowboarding hill, even having convinced Matthew to join him once or twice, since, "you're good with the snow stuff, right? Isn't Canada all snow? You should be a natural!"

They were staying for a total of 4 days, and today was their last day. It had been pretty uneventful overall, everyone more or less keeping their distance from each other, but the buddy system still stood. It had begun to snow profusely outside, and as the sun was setting, everyone had taken refuge inside the main cottage, the one with the giant television and the constant roaring fire, which Matthew and Gilbert constantly occupied.

Gilbert had taken a particularly nasty tumble when going down the snowboarding hill, and though he had protested at first, he finally allowed Matthew to bandage sprained wrist he was now sporting. Matthew had wrapped a blanket with the Canadian maple leaf around Gilbert's shoulders, which used to be shaking from the cold, and he always made sure Gilbert was drinking from fresh, hot tea. While Gilbert kept grumbling about how he was a grown man who didn't need to be fussed over, he also wore a small smile every time Matthew would adjust the blanket, or replace his empty mug with a new, full one.

Alfred suddenly came sprinting over to them, sliding in on his knees so he landed on the floor in between Matthew and Gilbert. He was smirking, throwing his arms around both of them.

"Are we enjoying ourselves by the fire, boys?"

"Piss off, Jones-"

"Watch your profanity, Gilby!"

"Don't you fucking-"

"Please don't fight-" Matthew squeaked, eyes now wide, and the tension in both men immediately seemed to disappear.

They heard a throat clear from behind them, and when they all turned around, Ivan was standing there with a deck of playing cards, smiling contently.

"Who wants to play card game?"

For a moment, no one answered. Matthew and Gilbert made eye contact, and Matthew noticed how antsy Gilbert always acted whenever Ivan came nearby. Alfred suddenly jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together excitedly.

"I'll play with ya, big guy! We're playing Go Fish, though! Deal?"

"Da!"

Alfred tugged Ivan by the wrist over to the large set of table and chairs in the corner of the room, passing the centre of the lobby where Antonio and Lovino were playing a very lazy game of Eye Spy with Ludwig and Feliciano. 

Feliciano was curled up on his side, his head nuzzled in Ludwig’s lap as he tried to keep himself awake. Ludwig was trying his hardest not to disturb and wake up the tiny Italian. The glove on his right hand had been abandoned a while ago, bare fingers now softly threading themselves through Feliciano’s hair. 

Lovino was laying on his back, arms folded behind his back, his legs sprawled out across Antonio’s lap. Every few minutes Antonio would start to play with the string of Lovino’s shoelaces, and every time without fail, Lovino would jolt his foot away and attempt to kick any part of Antonio he could reach. It never stopped Antonio from coming back though. 

Antonio was looking around the room, eyes narrowed, thinking intently. He suddenly perked up, a triumphant smile crossing his face.

“Okay! I spy with my little eye, something that is-”

“Yellow. You’re looking at the bananas on the table.” Ludwig muttered, and Antonio stuttered in disbelief.

“How could you have possibly known I was looking at the bananas?”

Ludwig huffed, but Lovino beat him to the punch.

“You’ve been eyeing them for nearly 15 minutes, you stupid jerk bastard.” 

Antonio pouted, mumbling a quick “fine”. This time, when he started to play with Lovino’s shoelace, Lovino didn’t try to kick him. 

Just as Ludwig was beginning to look around the room for something to Spy with his Eye, all the lights in the lodge seemed to go out all at once. Feliciano, Lovino, Matthew, and Alfred all let out a shriek at once, and Ludwig almost fell over when he was suddenly been straddled, Feliciano burying his face into the German’s neck, clinging to him.

He felt around with his free hand, and when he suddenly didn’t feel Lovino beside him, he assumed the more aggressive Italian had experienced a similar reaction to Feli, and was now clinging to Antonio like his life depended on it. 

As Ludwig stood up, Feliciano refused to let go of him. Ludwig should honestly be used to this by now. Feliciano’s legs were tight around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck, and Ludwig didn’t actually need to hold him up. Feli was strong when he wanted to be. 

“Lovi, it’s alright-it is simply a power outage!”

“Sh-shut up, Tomato face!”

“Matthew-Matt-that hurts-you’re crushing my dick-OW!”

“It’s-It’s-It’s so dark!”

“I do not think we have ever been this close, Amerika! You give good hugs.”

“I don’t want to fight more aliens!”

“Everybody listen!” Ludwig snapped, and the room fell into silence. When he felt Feliciano’s fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, he sighed, wrapped one arm around Feli’s torso, the other came to rest under one of his thighs in order to provide some sort of comfort. “It’s probably just a power outage. Nothing to lose your heads about. I’ll go outside to the electrical box, and-”

“Don’t leave me, Ludwig! It’s cold and dark and scary and it’s snowing!” Feli suddenly wailed, and Ludwig patted him on the back a couple of times in hope to quiet the smaller man.

“The only other options are to light some candles and wait for it to pass, Feli.”

“Just don’t go.”

Ludwig felt something tugging at his heartstrings, and he rubbed Feli’s back lightly, which seemed to help the Italian relax. 

“Does Arthur still have his lighter?”

In the darkness, Ludwig could have sworn he saw Alfred peal himself off of where he’d been curled up in Ivan’s side, and feel around in his pockets.

“I don’t have mine. Francis might have one?”

When the big shadow stood up beside Alfred, Ludwig knew immediately it was Ivan.

“Da! Where is he?”

Matthew suddenly perked up from the fire place, the only small source of light in the room until Alfred and Ivan began to open up the curtains. The sun was setting and soon, the fire would really be the only course of light. Matt was sitting with his back against Gilbert’s chest, Gilbert’s arms around his abdomen as he tried to keep the Canadian from having a full blown panic attack in the middle of all their friends. 

“A-Arthur and Francis w-went on the sk-ski lift.”

“Ah, shit.”

 

The moment the ski lift came to a halt, Francis let out an irritated groan, throwing his head back. They were now stuck in the air, head to toe in skiing gear, squished together on a tiny, cold, metal bench. Well, God only knew how long they could be there. Francis pulled off his helmet and his goggles, looking around. Worst of all, he was stuck up here with fucking Arthur.

“At least the view is not half bad, eh?”

“As-as long as I-I don’t have to see your ugly mug, it’s-it’s fine.” Arthur mumbled, and Francis immediately noticed that the usual venom was no longer in his voice. There was something else there now. 

He turned to look at him, accidentally rocking their seat as he did, and Arthur’s reaction actually made his chest hurt.

The Englishman squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden movement, hung his head, and gripped the bar in front of him like his life depended on it. Francis could see his lips moving slightly, and it took him 5 seconds to realize that Arthur was counting slowly to ten, then back down to one. 

He hesitated, but suddenly Francis was pulling off his gloves, and reaching up to remove Arthur’s helmet. Arthur immediately struggled to get away from him, his eyes wide and full of terror, but the expected jolt caused the chair to start rocking again, and suddenly Arthur was twisting his body around and clutching onto Francis’ arm. 

Francis simply stared down at his companion in awe. He hadn’t seen Arthur this scared since they had been children, and Arthur saw rain for the first time. He thought it was some sort of poison, and had run to Francis, shrieking and sobbing. At the time, Francis had laughed, patting the boy on the head and promising him that the rain would not cause him any pain, that it was there to help the flowers, like little Arthur, grow big and strong. 

Little Arthur had laughed, and the two had played out in the rain all day. They had never been as happy as they were on that day. It was a day that Francis still held near and dear to his heart, though he’d never let Arthur know. He’d rather fling himself from the ski lift. 

Timidly, Francis moved the arm that Arthur wasn’t clinging to, placing his hand gently on the back of his head. Arthur was shaking, and Francis knew he had to try and calm him down. There was no telling how long they’d be up here, and Arthur would just be embarrassed if he was panicking the entire time. It was the right thing to do, trying to save Arthur some of his dignity.

“If you let go of my arm, I will give you a hug. Just this once, Angleterre. Never again.”

Arthur seemed to listen, because he loosened his grip on Francis just enough so the Frenchman could pull his arm away. He wrapped both arms around Arthur when he was free, and he sighed at the way Arthur immediately leaned into the embrace, his eyes still squeezed shut. 

“I did not know you were afraid of heights, Artie!”

“Don’t call me that, and I’m not.” Arthur mumbled, earning a soft chuckle from Francis. 

“Of course you’re not! That means you are clinging to moi because you want to, oui?”

“Sh-shut up, you grimy pillock.” 

“Salope.”

“Blighter.” 

They fell silent after a moment, and Francis focused his gaze on the scenery above them. He was sure the last thing Arthur wanted was for him to be stared at.  
“We’ll be down soon, cheri.”

“Shut it, Frog.”

 

The sun had entirely set by now, and everyone inside the cabin was curled up around the fire. The heat inside the lodge had also turned off, so the fire was the only source of warmth they had other than each other.

Feliciano had not removed himself from Ludwig, and Ludwig didn’t seem to mind anymore. The pair were curled up in the closest armchair to the fire, Feliciano finally having fallen asleep with his head on Ludwig’s shoulder. Ludwig even appeared to slowly be dozing off.

Lovino, unlike his brother, had gotten off the lap of the person he had launched himself at. He was sitting next to Antonio, his legs pulled tightly against his torso, and his forehead resting against his knee. He was sitting hip to hip with the Spaniard, reluctantly allowing Antonio to rub soft, gentle circles into his back in order to help take his mind off the darkness around them. 

Gilbert was in a heated discussion with Antonio. It had started off as a half assed game of truth or dare, but it had dissolved into Antonio and Gilbert telling embarrassing stories about Francis. They were focused on the first time they all got arrested for public nudity. Gilbert, apparently, had been the one to call the police. Antonio claimed to have pictures somewhere on an old computer. 

Matthew had removed himself from in front of Gilbert, now occupying the empty space next to him. Gilbert had an arm lazily wrapped around his shoulders, the big maple leaf blanket now covering both of them. Since Kumajirou wasn’t there, Gilbert was allowing Matthew to hold his tiny yellow bird, Gilbird, who was chirping up at Matthew every now and then. With every chirp, Matthew would smile, lightly petting the top of the little bird’s head. Gilbert was a little worried that Gilbird was going to love Matthew more than him after all this. 

Ivan and Alfred had since gone back to their card game, and Alfred was starting to get pissed. He hadn’t one once. Ivan still had a wide smile on his face, setting down his cards on the floor in front of him.

“I got the fish! I win, da?”

“Oh, shove it.” 

Yao and Kiku had also come to join them, having appeared shortly after the lights went out. They had apparently been outside on a quiet walk when they saw the lights go out, and after hearing the screams, they came running. The pair for the most part were silent, but every now and then they would exchange a look that no one else seemed to catch. 

It had been three hours since the power had gone out, and everyone was bored. They were less scared of the dark now, they just wanted the heat back on at this point. 

Just as Gilbert was cackling about a different story about Francis that Antonio was telling him, this time about Russian Roulette (“Yonda~?” “No, Ivan.”), Matthew placed Gilbird on his head, looking out the window.

“Alf?”

Alfred’s attention turned to his brother in an instant, abandoning his new hand of cards in order to come over and kneel down next to him. 

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Do you think they’re okay?”

“Who?”

“Francis and Arthur.” 

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, then fixed his glasses. He reached forward to fix Matthew’s as well, flashing him an award winning smile.

“Of course! They’re probably having a blast up there right now.”

 

“You get heavy after a while, connard.”

“You’re always heavy, fatass.”

“How dare you speak to me this way?”

“Oh, sod off.”

“Suck my dick, Arthur!”

“I’m allergic to shrimp!”

“I SHOULD THROW YOU OFF THIS SKI LIFT, TA SALOPE!” 

 

It took a total of 5 hours before the power came back on, and when it did, it earned a bunch of loud cheers from inside the cabin, and two very annoyed: “THANK FUCK”’s from outside the cabin. Within 15 minutes both Francis and Arthur were storming into the lodge, both looking like they were ready to kill anyone who came within ten feet of them. Their tension seemed to fade, however, when they were greeted with hugs from both Matthew (Gilbird still nestled comfortably on his head) and Alfred.

7am the next morning, everyone was packed up and ready to go back the fuck home. Everyone had piled into the big van they were renting, chattering up a storm, while Ludwig stayed by the back and helped Kiku lift all the extra suitcases into the trunk. 

The two worked in a comfortable silence for a while, but when Ludwig paused before picking up the last bag, Kiku looked at him in confusion.

“Is something wrong?”

“I know you and Yao cut the power yourselves.”

Neither man answered for a moment, watching the other closely. Ludwig straightened up as he lifted the bag, placing it on top of the pile in the car, then shut the trunk and turned to Kiku. 

“What were you trying to achieve?” 

“This is a bonding trip, yet we were spending all our time away from the group. Sometimes, people need a small push in the right direction to get things started.”

Ludwig hummed, placing a hand on Kiku’s shoulder before the shorter man could get into the car.

“Just know that if Arthur and Francis ever find out, you’re a dead man. Both of you.”

“We were fully aware of the possible consequences when we made our decision.”

The pair nodded at each other, before separating. Ludwig got into the drivers seat, Feli in the passengers seat, softly munching on a slice of French Bread that Francis had given him. 

Feli gave him a wide grin before he went back to his chewing, and Ludwig couldn’t help but grin.

“Maybe we can try again next year, ja?” 

“NO!” Francis and Arthur yelled together, causing the entire car to burst out into fits of laughter.

Maybe this yearly bonding retreat thing was actually starting to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salope: Slut  
> Connard: Shithead  
> Ta Salope: You bitch


	4. Chopped - Spain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino wanted to say, yes. That he remembered all that. He remembered how safe this place felt. That when he felt especially lonely with Antonio gone he would make spiced hot chocolate, pull the comforter off of Antonio's bed, crawl into the attic, and curl up with one of the stories Antonio used to read to him. He wanted to say that he remembers falling asleep to rain on the tiled roof and the smell of Antonio all wrapped up around him. 
> 
> But he doesn't, he just nods and says, "yeah, I remember this place." 
> 
> **
> 
> Antonio hosts a cooking conpetition and things go.... Okay??

Asking Francis and Gilbert for help had been a mistake. 

They had cleaned nothing, they had barely gotten the supplies Antonio needed on time, and they kept looking at him sideways, like they did when they were about to surprise him with something they knew he wouldn't like. 

Antonio just wanted his vacation to work. Was that too much to ask?? 

He didn't have enough money to rent out a theme park for the entire day, or bring all the nations to a ski resort, but he did have a very nice bachelor pad in Barcelona, right near the beach with a view of the water. And he figured if he dusted it out, opened the big glass doors connecting the kitchen and the porch, and brought in some nicer, newer kitchen appliances he could have a nice cooking party. 

On second thought maybe he should break out the wine in the cellar, to ease over the fact that this party was going to be half-assed at best, and at worst, reminiscent of Lovi's 100th birthday party. Antonio shuddered. 

Ding dong. Dios, people we already arriving. 

Antonio smoothed down his hair, and then the front of his apron (which proudly stated "besa al cocinero"), and pulled the door open. 

There stood Lovino, in designer khakis and designer shoes, and a homemade tee shirt with the printing, "feel offended...." Followed by a shitty drawing of a middle finger. Followed by, "on a spiritual level". 

"Lovi." Antonio couldn't help but smile. "You're here early, si? I don't think I've ever seen you be early to something in your entire life!" Lovino scowled at the ground. "Iwanntatahelsclea...." He muttered. 

"What? I'm sorry I didn't catch that," Antonio said, smiling wider. If Lovi was this embarrassed he must've done something embarrassing. "I wanted to see if you needed help cleaning up or anything," Lovino practically yelled, his tone snarky and aggressive, "I know you haven't used this place in a while so I wanted to see if you needed my help. It looks fine, so I guess not. It's whatever." 

Antonio struggled not to laugh. "Lovi!" He teased, pretending to be shocked, "MY Lovi, ASKING if he can clean anything!" Lovino didn't look up, but crossed his arms and kicked at the welcome mat, "shut up, you jerk bastard." 

"It's all clean, but you could help me put out refreshments on the porch, si?" Spain bustled inside, picking up a few things as he went and re-arraigning them to his liking. "Do you remember this house, Lovi?" He threw over his shoulder, "you and I used to spend weekends here when you were just as tall as my belly button." He laughed, half to himself, but stopped when he noticed Lovino was still standing in the front doorway, looking up at the entry hall, the spiral staircase to their right. 

The Italian blushed and took off his shoes, chucking them in the closet like it was his own house and following Antonio. 

"You certainly still know where everything goes, ey?" Laughed Antonio, handing The shorter boy a stack of napkins to carry. 

"Iuscomere...." Lovino murmured, more to himself than to Antonio. "What?" Toni asked, doing the goddamn puppy dog eyes that always bore at Lovino's heart. "Nothing, forget it you jerk. Where am I putting this napkins, ey?" 

"Loviiii. What did you say?" 

"I said," Lovino looked longingly down the hallway that lead to the courtyard, "I used to come here. When I was older. You were away fighting so much of the time, and you left me with those godawful boring servants, so I would sneak away to this house. It always reminded me of holidays. I'd completely forgotten about this place until now." 

He clenched the napkins tightly as Antonio smiled softly at him. "I know," Antonio chuckled, "i told the servants in my house not to disturb you while you were here. What?! You were going through your moody teenage phase!! Even I was scared of you!" Antonio paused, straightening a picture of pear trees on the wall. "I have good memories of this house. Fruit picking in the spring. Well, you would eat fruit. Swimming in the summer. Well, I would swim and you would curl up under an umbrella with a book like some kind of moody beach vampire. Walking the Barcelona streets in the fall, even when it rained. Spiced hot cocoa and books up in the attic rooms in the winter. You remember Lovi?"

Lovino wanted to say, yes. That he remembered all that. He remembered how safe this place felt. That when he felt especially lonely with Antonio gone he would make spiced hot chocolate, pull the comforter off of Antonio's bed, crawl into the attic, and curl up with one of the stories Antonio used to read to him. He wanted to say that he remembers falling asleep to rain on the tiled roof and the smell of Antonio all wrapped up around him. 

But he doesn't, he just nods and says, "yeah, I remember this place." 

They reached the kitchen, and Lovino sets the napkins down. Leaning against the counter he tries to reign in his nostalgia, before saying, "so what's the plan for this retreat, ey? You're not going to make everybody spiced hot chocolate and read them all a bedtime story." 

Antonio laughed, "no, no. I have a plan, do not worry. I was thinking we could have a cook-off. We can get some people to judge, and some to cook, and then we can all eat at the end of the night...." 

Lovino couldn't help but breath an odd sigh of relief. Like he wanted to protect those memories of Toni and kept them for himself. He shook his head violently. That was just stupid. 

".... What you think, ey?" Antonio asked. He looked.... Nervous. Sure he was smiling and easily leaning up against the counter, but Lovino knew his tells better than anyone alive. He could always tell when Toni was bluffing-- he'd seen him do it too many goddamn times.

Like right now for instance, Toni was cracking his knuckles and smiling a smile that wasn't lopsided enough. 

Lovino smiled at him, tentatively, but honestly. "I think everyone will have a great time," he assured, once again avoiding the other boy's eyes, but foraging ahead none the less, "don't worry so much Toni. I'm sure you've done a fine job planning, okay?" 

Before Antonio could respond, the doorbell rang, and they both jumped. 

"COMING!" The Spaniard yelled, setting down bottles of drink and whipping his hands on his apron. "Kiss the Cook," it translated to. Lovino blushed, mostly at the thought of kissing and Toni being mentioned together, than rolled his eyes to himself and followed. 

America and Canada stood outside the door. It had begun. 

** 

Asking Francis and Gilbert for help really had been a mistake. 

"Francis," Antonio laughed uneasily, "I think everybody can pick their own partners, si? That way nobody feels uncomfortable. Plus, shouldn't we have a drink and a snack and--" he gripped the red wine with both hands "-- a DRINK before we get straight into the fun?" 

The Frenchman laughed, plucking the wine bottle out of Antonio's hands and taking charge. Antonio sighed. Everything was going fine. EVERYTHING WAS GOING JUST FINE, FRANCIS. When he noticed Lovi laughing silently at his distress he made a point of taking a large, calming breath. 

"As you all know," Francis declared from one of the kitchen stools, "this competition can have only one winner. There will be three rounds, appetizer, main and desert. In each round each pair of chefs must utilize in their dish each of the three secret ingredients for that round. When the timer stops, all movement on the floor-- kitchen-- stops. Absolutely no cheating, mom amies. Absolutely no judge favouritism. This is.... CHOPPED NATIONS." 

Antonio took a swig of wine from the bottle. 

"The judges, picked for their knowledge in the exquisite pursuits of fine cuisine, will as follows," Francis continued, "Yao, Feliciano, and the lovely, the entrancing, the amazing: myself." 

Gilbert pushed him off the stool and continued the speak. "Pairs have been chosen based on cooking knowledge-- yada yada yada-- und prior experience, in the pursuit of fairness-- yada yada yada-- ect ect whatever. Alfred und Arthur! Kiku und Ludwig! Me und Matthew! Lovino und Antonio! Mr. Russia does not wish to play und therefor does not have to!" 

Antonio turned to Lovino, unsurprised to see him already glaring. Same old Lovi. "You and I can't cook together, you jerk bastard, and you know it," he hissed, "Do you not remember last time?!" Antonio did, in fact, remember last time. "Ey. Don't look at me," he protested weakly, "I put Francis and Gilbert in charge of some aspects of organization." 

"You're--" Lovino started. "An idiot? Yes, I know," Antonio finished sadly. 

****

Matthew approached Gilbert cautiously. If he and Francis had made up the teams, then that probably meant Gilbert WANTED to be partners with him. Matthew shook his head, maybe Francis had done it. Francis liked to play jokes like that. Besides Gilbert had tons of other, better friends. Like his brother, Ludwig. Or his best friend Spain. Or-- 

"Hey, Matthew!!" Gilbert shouted, running over to him excitedly, "are you ready to destroy these losers!?" "Oh, uh, yeah." Matthew smiled at him. 

"I'm awesome at cooking!" Gilbert declared, "and you-- you're, ah-- you're awesome at cooking too so.... We're gonna do awesome!!" Matthew smiled wider, and then hid it in his hands. 

**** 

"Ludwig," Kiku said in acknowledgement. "Kiku," Ludwig returned. "AND FELICIANO!!" Feliciano yelled excitedly, jumping onto Ludwig's back. "Nein," Ludwig said tiredly, "you are a judge, you cannot help us cook." He tried to shake the skinny boy off but he was latched on like a limpet. 

"But I want to make pasta!!" He complained. "Zhere is chilled pasta in my day bag, Ludwig argued, finally untangling himself, "eat zhat for now but you cannot help us cook, it is against ze rules." 

Feliciano moped, but only until Ludwig presented him with a Tupperware of pasta and a plastic fork. Ludwig looked worriedly in the bag. "Zhat is the last of the extra, extra pasta I've got." 

****

"Francis you fucking wanker!!" 

"Ohonhonhonhon." Francis ducked to avoid a flying ladle, the first projectile cooking utensil of the evening. 

"How dare you partner me up with that imbecile!!" Arthur shouted, gesturing wildly at Alfred, who was running up and down the spiral staircase shouting "so cool, dude! It's just like Harry Potter!" Francis only laughed again, "come on, Arthur, does it really matter who you're paired up with? This is a cooking competition! You're going to loose anyway!" 

Arthur screeched inhumanly and went for his hair. 

**** 

"The first basket of secret ingredients!!" Italy yelled excitedly, as France moped behind him with a black eye, "is.... RUSSIAN VODKA, CHEERIOS, AND UNSWEETENED LIME JUICE!!" 

"Paella Valenciana!!" Antonio yelled excitedly. He knew the ingredients in the kitchen, he had an upper hand. And who didn't love creamy, spicy, Paella? With its-- 

"No," Lovino said. "No? Spain asked, incredulous, "but we could use the vodka in the sauce, and the Cheerios in the--" 

"No," Lovino repeated, "Espanola. Like you used to make. These three won't agree on anything, taste-wise, but even I liked it as a kid, and I was the picky-est fucking kid to ever exist." "Hun," Antonio said, heart not in it to argue, "I didn't know you liked my Espanola." 

"Just shut up and make some tortillas out of the Cheerios, okay?" Lovino said, brushing him off. Antonio nodded and bustled off, feeling like a goddamn su-chef. 

**** 

"I don't cook a lot with alcohol," Matthew said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't drink a lot. But the Cheerios and lime are easy enough." 

"Lime- vodka smoothie?" Gilbert asked, feeling strange checking his awesome idea with somebody else before proceeding. Even somebody as admittantly kinda awesome as Matthew. "Sure!" Matthew slung an apron over his head and then tied it tight around his waist, "we can make a cheerio crumble on top!" 

**** 

"Make pasta with the cherriooooooos," Feliciano whined. Ludwig all but peeled the annoying nation off of himself and sat him gently on the counter, "Feli, you can't help us, we vill get disqualified." 

"I agree with Feliciano," Kiku chimed in unhelpfully, "a pasta out of the Cheerios would be creative and delicious." Ludwig sighed and rummaged in the cupboards for a mixing bowl. Lime and vodka marinara sauce actually sounded pretty smart but he was still pretty sure Feliciano wasn't allowed to help them. 

**** 

Alfred screamed. 

Arthur screamed. 

Alfred crushed the Cheerios, squirted the lime on them, and then poured the soggy mess into a cup. He then poured roughly 4 shots of vodka into the cup and set it down on the counter beside himself. "Done!" He yelled, "done first, cuz I'm the hero!" 

Arthur knocked the cup over, and in his haste to fix his mistake, turned on the countertop stove, which promptly caught the pooling vodka on fire. It ascended into 4 foot flames. French laughter could be heard from across the room. 

Alfred put the whole mess out with a fire extinguisher. 

**** 

Feliciano, Francs and Yao sat at the outdoor table, looking on as the other nations brought forth questionable dishes. 

Not only was Lovino and Antonio's edible, it was quite good. Italy gave them both a hug for "not putting yucky stuff in [his] tummy". 

Gilbert and Matthew's was also edible, they received a thumbs up and a "much better than English food!" 

As Ludwig and Kiku set down their plate of noodles, which turned out quite well, Feliciano said "wow wee, PASTA!? I neeeeveeeeer would've guessed!!" And winked at Ludwig twice. "Sacrebleu!" Francis screeched, falling onto Feliciano, "did these thugs convince you to cheat, Feliciano! They are disqualified from this round! The only way-" he announced grandly "- for you to right you wrongs, Feliciano, is to negatively interfere with them in the next round!" 

Ludwig groaned. 

Alfred plopped a sad little clump of charred ashes onto the table. It began to smoke a little and he quickly smothered it. "Is that whipping cream?" Francis asked hopefully. Alfred shook his head, "fire extinguisher." 

Francis looked at Alfred with concern. "I feel the need to remind you that you MUST use all three basket ingredients HOWEVER you can also use OTHER ingredients." "Oh." 

****   
"The next round! An apple, an entire McDonalds cheeseburger, and maple syrup!" 

As the maple syrup was revealed there was heard an inhuman screech from Matthew. "AUNT JEMIMA'S IS NOT MAPLE!!" He cried. Matthew ran across the room to Feliciano, took the bottle from his hands, and threw it to the floor. It didn't shatter, because it was shitty plastic, but it bounced aggressively and slid under a nearby chair. 

Matthew fell to his knees sobbing. "Who has done this?" Antonio demanded. Sheepishly, Gilbert raised his hand. "It said syrup?" He tried to justify. 

Antonio got quickly to his feet, "Francis! Go to the store immediately! Get proper maple, no matter the ridiculous cost now that we are in Spain!" "Oui!!" The Frenchman shouted, running out the door. "Gilbert! Help me get through to Matthew! CPR is a last resort." 

"What are you fucking kiddi--" Gilbert kneeled beside the shaking Canadian with his friend, "ya, sure okay." 

"Matthew? Mattie? Matt? You're okay. We're here. You're safe. It was just a mistake." 

Finally, Matthew stood on shaking legs. He whipped angrily at his teary eyes, and said in a dangerously low voice, "Gilbert. Go sit in the fucking corner." Gilbert went and sat in the fucking corner. 

When Francis returned with proper maple, the next round began. 

**** 

"Hamburger paella?" Lovino asked. "Hamburger paella," Antonio confirmed. 

Antonio started slicing apple with practiced ease, and Lovino wrinkled his nose as he approached this McDonald's atrocity. "There are pickles, Toni," he reported, "and mustard." 

"It will taste fine," Antonio responded. He hadn't had this much fun cooking since, well... He'd last cooked with Lovi. As a kid, Lovi viewed cooking as a chore, but when he got a little older, Antonio had taught him the basics. The only problem had come up when Lovino had accused him of talking down to him, and treating him like a kid. Lovino had wanted to be the "head chef", and they couldn't both be the head chef. 

Antonio chuckled to himself. "As long as we put enough saffron in, nobody will taste the ghost of a pickle." 

Lovino slowed his movements. "You. Don't. Put. Saffron. In. Paella." He gave Antonio a look that could kill a weaker man. "Only. Rosemary." 

"Don't be silly, Lovi. Rosemary and Saffron." 

"Rosemary. Only Rosemary." 

"You've got to expand, take a risk!" 

"You put in goddamn saffron and it smothers all the other tastes you idiot jerk bastard!" 

"Come on, Lovi! Just this once, listen to me about something, ey?" 

Lovino threw a slimy pickle and it hit Antonio square in the jaw. 

Antonio backed up in surprise, but bumped into the next part of the counter. Lovino's arms moved deftly, and he picked up another pickle to throw. The Italian seemed more at home in his kitchen than he did. 

Lovino threw another pickle, and this time he dodged it. He picked up an apple slice and threw it like a throwing star. It hit Lovino in the chest. "You jerk bastard I like this shirt!!" Lovino picked up one of their jugs of syrup and launched it in an arch towards Antonio (thankfully Matthew didn't see). 

Oh great, now Antonio was super sticky. 

He rummaged behind himself for a weapon on the counter there. It was the counter he used for pasta making so.... Ha! His hand closed around a bag of flour and soon it was soaring through the air in a white cloud towards Lovino. 

Lovino SCREECHED as his khakis were ruined. Antonio laughed until he choked on the potent cloud of flour. 

"See," Antonio coughed, "I do remember last time." 

Lovino marched to the spices cabinet, grabbed the saffron, opened the window, and chucked it out. Then he wiped off his clothing and matched over to their little cooking station. Antonio realized after a second that he was laughing. 

Lovino didn't turn around, but said, "get over here you jerk bastard I'm going to teach you to make Paella." 

**** 

"Feli, when he said interference I don't think this is vhat he meant," Ludwig protested futilely. Feliciano was once again on his back, singing something softly in Italian to himself. "It's interference!!" He seemed quite pleased with himself. 

"But you do this all ze time und I still get work done," Ludwig muttered to himself. 

Japan sighed and handed him the syrup.

**** 

The main dishes were.... Interesting. 

Lovino and Antonio had a very taste rice dish. Perhaps it could've used some more spice, but the lack of big tastes allowed the individual flavours to really come through. Francis was pleased. 

Matthew had somehow managed to make a sweet/ savoury gravy/ maple poutine that was.... So good. Even the beef fit in fine. Gilbert was finally allowed out of the corner after he had throughly apologized for his mistake. 

Ludwig and Kiku had made yet another pasta dish. However by the way Feliciano was still hanging off Ludwig's back (and occasionally giggling and flicking at Ludwig's hands, which trying desperately to set down the pasta), Francis thought it was safe to say he hadn't helped too much.

Arthur had set another fire, but this time not ON the food, and thus Francis found himself eating a strange hamburger sandwich with maple and apples in it. 

**** 

Feliciano finally stopped throwing up Alfred's apple hamburger from hell, Francis patted him weakly on the back and Ludwig scooped him up to take him back to the judge's table. "Just sit still for a bit, alright, Feli?" Ludwig begged, reaching back to Lovino for a cup of water. "Ve?" Feliciano asked weakly, "Ludie, what happened?" 

"You are bad food," the German confessed solemnly. 

"Is he... Going to be okay?" Francis asked, concerned. "Vhat?" Ludwig looked up from Feliciano's hands, clutching the cup of water. "Ah, yes. Zhis happens all ze time. I overcook ze food-- he throws up. I undercook ze food-- he throws up." Francis nodded. "It's an Italian zhing, I zhink," Ludwig confessed to him. 

"My Lovi never did anything like that," Antonio mused aloud, "but he would kick me in the shins if I cooked something bad." "HEY! SHUT UP YOU JERK BASTARD!" 

"For the final round is dessert!" This time it was Gilbert who stood perched on a chair, as Feliciano and Francis were both distracted, "White chocolate chips, a whole uncooked potato, and this bottle of cloves we found in Antonio's cupboard, because we miscounted 9 food things and only got 8!" Gilbert said all in a rush.

Lovino's eyes caught Antonio's easily. "Hot cocoa?" 

Lovino remembered the recipe. He remembered trying to duplicate it alone, in this big empty house. He remembered the clink of the spice jars and the rain on the roof and the slightly burnt smell of the old oven burners flaring to life. His was never as good as Antonio's had been. 

Lovino remembered when Antonio used to make it for him, before he could reach the spice cabinet. He would sit on the counter and watch the older boy work, swinging his legs and huffing impatiently. 

Lovino looked over at Antonio. He was still covered in syrup, and the flour was caught in it, creating a white splattered pattern across his apron. There was flour in his hair and smudged down his cheek. 

"Cocoa, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, chilli, nutmeg, and cloves," Lovino recited, reaching for the spice cabinet. Antonio hummed in agreement. 

**** 

As Ludwig was still sitting softly beside Feliciano, brushing calming fingers through his hair and murmuring to him in German, Kiku took it upon himself begin cooking the single potato. 

**** 

"Hey, um, I'm sorry about before. I didn't realize how un-awesome aunt jemima's was," Gilbert said tentatively. Matthew took a deep breath, his hands fisting in the material of his hoodie, and responded, "I'm sorry too. I may have overreacted a little bit. What should we make with potato, chocolate and cloves?" 

"Well actually," said Prussia, "there is this awesome dish from my place that's kind of like chips." Matthew nodded, stepping back and allowing Gilbert to reach for the ingredients. "Come on," the German said, beaconing him over, "I'll show you how to make it." 

****

"Do you want to mash the potato?" Alfred asked. Arthur though he had misheard the taller boy. "Pardon?" 

"Here, you can do this job," Alfred repeated, thrusting a potato masher into his surprised hands. "But last time you said not to touch anything!" Arthur protested hotly. "Yes, but I don't think even you can catch mashed potatoes on fire, dude," Alfred laughed, "plus, maybe that'll get you to stop moping." 

5 minutes later the potato was thoroughly mashed, and Alfred was pouring melted white chocolate over it. "It didn't catch on fire!" Arthur shouted happily. 

****

Arthur looked so goddamn pleased with himself, his eyes wide, his teeth clearly clamped down on the inside of his cheek to prevent breaking into a smile. Francis felt faint. "What have you done, you sneaky crumpet?" Francis asked, his voice suspicious. 

"Nothing!!" Arthur yelled quickly, crossing his arms but continuing to fidget happily. "ARTHUR HELPED COOK AND IT DIDN'T CATCH ON FIRE!!" Alfred blurted out. Francis burst out laughing, but accepted the proffered potato dish none the less. 

Yao and Francis each took a bite of the Alfred-Arthur mistake at the same time, and Feliciano shook his head sadly. "Suck ball, your food it not on fire, but it still disgusting!" By God he was correct. But as Francis saw the breaking smile start to slip from Arthur's face, he forced himself to take another bite and grin. 

"It's not too bad," he said, mouth full of potato and still goopy white chocolate. Arthur had to use his hands to hide his smile. "I'll give you a point for plating," feliciano chimed in weakly. 

Kiku's simple dish got high approval ratings, and the Prussia- Canada sweet and spicy chips were well-liked. 

Spain came forward next, baring three mugs of cocoa and set them down easily. He had syrup, flour, and now cinnamon in his hair, but he seemed unconcerned by it. "Ve!" Feliciano chirped happily, "fratello, this is the kind of cocoa you make all the time at home!" He took a sip. "Mmh it tastes like winter!" 

Lovino blushed, looking down into the cup he had both hands wrapped around, avoiding Antonio's eyes. 

"Come, come, judges!" Francis announced, "we must confer!" "Alfred and Arthur's food suck ball," Yao muttered as he was ushered from the room, "they should not win." Alfred chucked a spatula at his retreating form. 

The sun was setting. The day was still balmy, but not too hot, and as Lovino stepped out on the porch he wanted nothing more than to curl up in what used to be his favourite spot and watch the sun finish setting over the water. "Hey," Antonio said, startling him out of his thoughts, "they might take a while so you all should come outside, friends! We are just on the beach! Gilbert, help me bring a few more chairs out here...." 

Lovino leaned against the doorframe to watch Antonio move the kitchen chairs. He wasn't going to help. But he was there for moral support. "Hey you jerk bastard, you think we are going to win?" He asked quietly, smiling a light smile. Antonio didn't look, but responded as he walked past, "I actually wouldn't be surprised. I told you we could cook together, Lovi. There is more cocoa in the pot if you want more." 

Lovino did want more, so he stepped into the emptying kitchen. He bet Antonio barely used this house anymore. Maybe.... Maybe he could come here alone on weekends. To get away from Feliciano and that potato bastard (though he loved them). Maybe he could go see if all the books were still in the attic. 

"AW YEAH! OCEAN TIME, BABY!!!" Alfred yelled, already stripping off layers of clothing and running headlong into the water. Gilbert kicked off his shoes and ran into the water, using his feet to kick up tiny waves and splash anybody too close. Matthew shrieked as his legs got soaked, the loudest sound anybody had ever heard out of him, and ran back onto the porch, cursing Gilbert out in French. 

Thank god Francis wasn't around to hear him. 

"What did you say?" Gilbert asked, the beginnings of a teasing smile pulling at his lips. He splashed out of the water and back towards the porch. "Oh shootity darn in the heck," Matthew dead-panned, crossing his arms. 

Shootity darn in the heck, Matthew thought violently, he was blushing. 

Arthur sat down in one of the deck chairs and smiled to himself, helping Antonio with the drinks. "Red wine?" The Spaniard offered weakly, cringing as Alfred yelled something incoherent, far out in the Barcelona waves. "Yes, thank you," Arthur replied, "I bloody well think I deserve it today." 

Ludwig hesitated by the door, always wanting to stay close to Feliciano. Especially when Francis insisted on squirrelling him away with only himself and Yao. "Come on, Ludwig," Kiku said quietly at his shoulder, "Mr. Italy is just fine. Let's sit down like good guests." 

Ivan thought that perhaps his fellow countries had forgotten he was there. He sat down in a deck chair and reached for the snack platter, selecting a cherry tomato and dipping it in ranch dressing. Ivan hummed, he liked ranch dressing. "Ivan, will you pass us the chips, please," came the voice of Gilbert. Ivan looked up, and did as he was asked. "Thanks, man." Ivan smiled quietly to himself as he watched the sun set over the ocean. 

"WE HAVE REACHED A DECISION!!" Francis proudly announced, twirling out of the kitchen and onto the porch. "Ve!! It was so fun to taste all your tasty foods!!" Feliciano chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hush now, Felici, this is a serious matter," the Frenchman said in a mock-whisper, then turned his attention to the gathering crowd. 

Lovino returned to the porch with a full mug and sat between Antonio and the Potato Bastard. Antonio's vacation idea turned out surprisingly well, he thought. Not that he was ever going to tell Antonio that. 

"Alfred and Arthur," Francis began, "your first two dishes were not actually edible, but your last one was!! You only set four fires--" (money exchanged hands between Antonio and Gilbert) "--and for this you earn a score of 5!!" 

"AW YEAH FIVE!" Alfred shouted, fist bumping an unprepared Arthur, "wait, what's it out of?" 

"Ludwig and Kiku," Francis continued, "you dishes were actually all quite good, all three of us liked them. But you totally cheated by letting Feliciano help you, so you get a score of 14." Ludwig just sighed. 

"Gilbert and Matthew." Matthew shrunk into himself a little, feeling too many people glance his way. "Despite a domestic dispute concerning Jemima, you managed to make 3 really good dishes. And I am going to attribute that to my Mattieu, who learnt it all from me, because Gilly all your food is usually dry and Mattieu made absolutely stunning poutine without you." 

"BUT I AM AWESOME AT COOKING!" Gilbert protested. "H-he did come up with 2 of the ideas," Matthew chimed in shyly. "YEAH! SEE!? AWESOME!" Francis merely scoffed, but continued, "score of 17, well done." 

"Antonio and Lovino." Lovino scowled to cover up how uncomfortable he was. "Excellent dishes. Just...." Francis looked dreamily off into the middle distance, sighing happily at the thought of Spanish Paella, "excellent, truly. For this, a score of 20." 

The was a smattering of cheers. "Antonio," Francis enthused, "the prize!" Antonio shook his head, "I wasn't getting a prize! Gilbert was!" 

"No!" Gilbert shouted, "Francis was!" "Mein Gott," Ludwig sighed, "zhey are like schoolchildren." "THE PRIZE IS HUGS!!" Feliciano yelled, pushing past France to squish Antonio and Lovino into a rib crushing hug. Lovino scowled until he could bury his face in his brother's shoulder. Then he smiled. Oh Fratello, he thought amusedly, I hope you had as much fun as I did this weekend. 

"Swimming!!" Feliciano announced, pulling back, "swim, swim, swim! Cmon, Luddie!" He pulled the German, and then Kiku, towards the water. Alfred and Francis happily followed. 

Lovino stayed solidly in his seat, his favourite spot, and wrapped his hands around his mug of cocoa.


	5. Drinking - Germany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it came time for them to pick the 5th annual bonding retreat, Feliciano was the first one to notice the devious glint in Ludwig’s eye. Gilbert seemed to notice it only seconds after, because his eyes widened, and the Prussian looked alarmed, the colour draining from his already pale face.  
>  “West, think about what you’re doing-”  
>  Ludwig slowly rose from his seat in the conference hall, flashing a spine chilling smile towards all the other nations. Feliciano could have sworn he saw even Ivan shudder.

When it came time for them to pick the 5th annual bonding retreat, Feliciano was the first one to notice the devious glint in Ludwig’s eye. Gilbert seemed to notice it only seconds after, because his eyes widened, and the Prussian looked alarmed, the colour draining from his already pale face.

“West, think about what you’re doing-”

Ludwig slowly rose from his seat in the conference hall, flashing a spine chilling smile towards all the other nations. Feliciano could have sworn he saw even Ivan shudder.

“I propose that we go out for a night. One night only, getting as drunk as we can all possibly handle.” 

“What if we don’t want to drink?” Matthew piped up, but Ludwig didn’t seem to hear the boy. Matthew slumped dejectedly in his seat, and Gilbert patted his head lightly, yelling across the table.

“What if someone doesn’t want to drink, ja?”

Ludwig sighed, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Then we will not force them to drink. Now, does anyone oppose the idea of going to a bar for this years retreat?” 

Matthew and Gilbert shared a small smile that went unnoticed by the rest of the group. 

No one answered, though everyone glanced around the room to see if anyone dared to object the motion.

Ludwig’s lips twitched up in a slight smirk, though it fell when Alfred suddenly jumped to his feet.

“I will agree to come, but only on one condition!” He said loudly, his hands coming to rest on his hips triumphantly, the grin never leaving his face. He was up to something, Ludwig knew it.

“What is your condition?”

Alfred leaned on the table, blue eyes narrowing behind his glasses. He pointed a gloved finger at Ludwig, who raised an eyebrow in anticipation. 

“We have to have a stripper pole.”

“Deal.”

 

Ludwig had taken everyone to a large bar in the heart of Berlin, one that Gilbert and Ludwig had spent most of Ludwig’s teenage years in. When they were all piled outside the bar, Gilbert had been the last one to show up, and he had gone dangerously flushed when he realized where they were. He and Ludwig shared a small smile, as Ludwig patted his older brother on the back.

“I understand you two are having a moment, but do you wanna explain?” Alfred piped up, pushing passed Toris and Ivan in order to get to the front of the group. Ivan looked irritated for a moment, but after Toris’ hand came to rest lightly on his arm, the larger nation relaxed again, flashing Toris a smile that made the other man pale. 

When Gilbert didn’t answer, Ludwig turned his attention towards Alfred.

“When the Berlin Wall fell, and after Gilbert got out of someone’s basement-” he shot a look at Ivan, who’s eyes flashed with guilt, “Gilbert only agreed to let me patch up his wounds if he could have a beer while I did it. We went here.”

This earned a couple of ‘awe’s and ‘that’s so sweet’s from the group, to which both Ludwig and Gilbert went bright red. Gilbert composed himself, clearing his throat as he crossed his arms.

“Alright! The goal is to get as plastered as fucking possible. None of you are as awesome as me, so good luck keeping up!” He shouted, before taking off in a full blown sprint towards the bar. “Follow me, boys!”

Almost as if on cue, Antonio and Francis let out a loud cheer, thrusting fists into the air, before racing inside after Gilbert. They almost tripped over each other, but soon disappeared in through the doors. 

Alfred linked arms with Matthew, who was planning on being the sober mom friend for the night, and started pulling him in towards the front doors, all while yelling that he could take a shot without using his hands, AND with a blindfold on. 

Shortly behind them was Ivan, who now had an arm around a very pale Toris’ shoulders, but Toris seemed to be relaxing (slightly, mind you. The boy was always on guard, no matter who he was with) when Ivan offered to buy him a drink. Ivan was lucky enough that he could drink all the Vodka he wanted, and not feel a thing. 10 shots of whiskey though, and he was done. 

Lovino and Arthur glanced at each other, and Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“They’re idiots.” Lovino grumbled, and Arthur patted the smaller nation on the back.

“It never changes, lad.”

The pair headed inside the bar, and just as Ludwig was turning to follow them inside, a smaller hand slipped into his own. He looked down to see Feliciano smiling enthusiastically up at him.

“I bet I can match you tonight, Germany! You can’t drink that much, and I’ve had some practice from the last time I was over at Francis’ house and I had red wine and I only threw up once! Francis was very proud, since he said I was so small, and I shouldn’t be able to hold any alcohol, but I’m Italian!” Feliciano rambled, moving forward as he began to tug Ludwig into the bar.

Ludwig found himself smirking. Feli wanted to match him, huh? He supposed he could give in, just for one night.

“You know it takes an average of 15 pints of beer to get me even tipsy, ja?” 

At that, Feliciano seemed to hesitate, but the smile was back on his face before Ludwig could say the word Pasta.

“I can still match you! I’ll prove it to you!”

“We’ll see.” 

 

Two hours later, and everyone was fucking plastered. Alfred had started blasting rock music through the speakers, the current song being Don’t Stop Believing, to which a swaying, red faced Arthur was sing-screaming off in the corner with Arthur. Francis was drinking straight out of a bottle of red wine (his third), one arm swung around Arthur’s shoulders to keep him close.

Alfred had since abandoned Toris to play around with the IPod with all the music on it. He was sitting up at the actual bar counter with Ivan, hands clasped tightly, sleeves of both men rolled up as they arm wrestled. They were muttering quiet, meaningless threats to the other while Antonio and Lovino cheered them on, Lovino screaming in Italian to get off their fat asses and destroy the other, while Antonio was swaying from side to side, attempting to loudly narrate what was going on, but a thought suddenly popped into his head, because he broke out into a shit eating grin.

“DON’T START ANOTHER COLD WAR!” 

This seemed to throw both the Russian and the American off, because they both glanced at him. Neither one was a fan of talking about the Cold War, for multiple different reasons. Ivan and Alfred look back at each other, hesitating, and Ivan suddenly loosened his grip in order to let Alfred win. When the American pushed his hand on the table, Ivan forced a smile and pulled his scarf up to cover part of his face.

“I will buy you a drink now, da?” He turned to the bartender, who just happened to be a very bored looking Kiku, and lightly tapped the counter. “Two shots of Vodka for my comrade and I!” 

 

Feliciano had tried his hardest to keep up his promise of matching Ludwig, he really had. The Italian was able to only stomach about 4 glasses of beer before the room had begun to spin and he had to curl up in the nearest booth. Ludwig was on his 20th pint, and Feliciano was honestly fucking impressed. Ludwig should be dead by now. Sure, the living nations had a higher alcohol tolerance, but Ludwig’s was...extensive. 

Feliciano, however, had never seen Ludwig THIS drunk before. 

The blond was laying down in the booth, his head resting on Feliciano’s thigh. He was quiet for the most part, eyes shut, but every now and then he’d open his eyes to look up at Feli, then smile so wide that it made Feliciano’s heart jump into his throat. 

Shit, Ludwig was gorgeous.

He wanted to devote himself entirely to Ludwig, but Feliciano was smart enough to know that there were still some tensions between the two. When Italy surrendered to the Allies during the War, Feliciano, although reluctantly, had fought against Ludwig and the other German’s. It nearly killed him inside. The sadness mixed with forgiveness in Ludwig’s eyes had broken him into a million pieces. 

Even after everything, Ludwig had welcomed Feliciano back into his home after the war with open arms, and a hesitant smile. Feliciano hadn’t let go since. 

Now, here they were. Ludwig was looking up at him, both of them drunker than they had ever been before. Feliciano ran his fingers through Ludwig’s soft blond hair, and Ludwig suddenly reached up to stop him. He brought Feli’s hand down towards his face, and Feliciano flushed a tomato-red as his breath caught in his throat. Ludwig lightly pressed his lips against Feliciano’s knuckles, locking their eyes.

“No matter how many years pass, I’ll love you the most of anyone in this world.”

Almost immediately, tears sprung to the Italian’s eyes. Ludwig had quoted Holy Rome exactly, never once breaking the eye contact. Ludwig’s free hand reached up to cup Feliciano’s cheek, the smile he had previously worn fading. 

Finally, something inside Feliciano’s head clicked. A shaky hand placed itself on top of Ludwig’s, and Ludwig turned his hand around so they were holding each other.

“What troubles you, liebling?”

Feliciano’s lower lip had begun to tremble. He suddenly shifted, causing Ludwig to gasp when his head was moved off of Feli’s leg, and placed back down on the cushion of their seat. Feli was now laying on top of him, legs on either side of Ludwig’s torso, both his hands resting on Ludwig’s cheeks. Ludwig’s hands came up to rest on Feli’s waist, as Feliciano leaned down to bump his forehead against Ludwig’s.

“R-Roma?” He breathed out, his voice breaking. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long, only to realize the one he had been waiting for so desperately had been in front of him the entire time. 

Ludwig simply smiled, too drunk to understand the gravity of the situation. Before he even had time to think of how to respond, Feli had leaned down, squishing Ludwig’s cheeks slightly as the pair finally kissed. In that instant, everything around them seemed to fall away. The music, their friends, everything. It was just them. They broke apart for air, though Feli made sure to keep Ludwig closed. He leaned down to tuck his head into the German’s shoulder, his hands coming to rest on Ludwig’s shoulders while his fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Ludwig wrapped his arms around Feliciano’s torso, holding him closer to his chest. 

“Ich liebe dich, Feli.”

“Ti amo anche, Luddy.”

 

Matthew was sitting in the chair closest to the stripper pole that Alfred had requested, Lovino sitting next to him. Both Antonio and Gilbert were trying to dance on the pole at the same time, and watching them was enough to keep Matthew laughing the entire time. Lovino was drunk texting someone (probably Antonio, despite Antonio being right in front of him), though every few minutes he’d glance up to watch the two idiots throwing themselves at the pole. 

Antonio suddenly clocked Gilbert in the back of the head in an attempt to get him to fuck off. Gilbert shrieked, releasing his grip on the pole and falling on his butt. He pouted, flushed from the alcohol, but didn’t move to tell Antonio off. Instead he crawled over to Matthew, laying flat on his stomach with his face pressed against the Canadian’s lap.

“Maaaaaattie...”

“Y-Yes, Gil?” 

“Antonio is being meeeeeean.” 

Lovino rolled his eyes from beside Matthew, reaching down to smack Gilbert, who flinched and whined, on the arm. 

“Don’t be a baby for once in your life!” He snapped, and Matthew could have sworn he saw tears flooding Gilbert’s eyes. He patted Gil’s head softly to get his attention, before opening his arms for Gilbert to climb into. The next thing they knew, Gilbert was curled up on Matt’s lap, sniffling quietly, his head resting on Matthew’s shoulder. Matthew was rubbing his hand absentmindedly up and down Gilbert’s spine, though his eyes were focused on Antonio.

The Spaniard was more flexible than Matthew had thought. 

Antonio was upside down on the pole, his legs wrapped tightly around it. He looked like he was sitting cross legged, honestly. It took him a minute, but he suddenly let go of the pole, hanging only by his legs. He made eye contact with Lovino who was now taking pictures, and he smiled widely.

“Look, Lovino! You are impressed?”

Lovino couldn’t help but smirk, putting his phone down. The drunk Italian jumped up to his feet, making his way over to his upside down friend.

“I could tickle you right now.”

Fear flashed through Antonio’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t-”

“Try me, bastard-” 

As Lovino lunged, Antonio screamed. His legs released the pole causing him to fall, and Lovino burst into a loud fit of laughter. Antonio groaned as he sit up, now rubbing the sore neck that he had landed on. Lovino dropped to his knees beside Antonio, still cackling, and Antonio shot the other man a glare. 

“That hurt, Lovi!”

“It-it was-o-oh my g-god!” Lovino wheezed, though he burst into even louder laughter when Antonio tackled him to the ground and they began to wrestle. 

They only stopped when Alfred suddenly jumped up on the bar counter, fingers in his mouth, and whistled loudly. In fact, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the loud as fuck American. Alfred grinned, dropping his hands back down to his sides. 

“L-listen up, fuckers!” he shouted, slurring his words slightly. “I’ve done a-a lot of nasty shit in my life, as I’m sure most of you know, BUT-” He jumped off the counter, and he would have tripped if Ivan hadn’t grabbed his arm to steady him. “Yao has bet me $500 US Dollars to give England a lap dance in front of everyone, and the-the more money my country has the better!” He shouted, grinning deviously as Arthur was pushed into the centre of the room by Anderson, who had a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Arthur had been standing in between Anderson and Francis, but now when he looked around, Alfred was approaching him and pushing him down into a nearby chair.

“A-Alfred, I don’t-”

“Shut up for five minutes, Iggy! It’ll be fun!”

Arthur didn’t have time to respond, because suddenly Alfred’s shirt was being thrown across the room, and Yao was tossing him those stupid bear ears Alfred had once worn when Francis tried to blackmail everyone. Alfred gave a sharp nod to Toris, who fumbled with the IPod for a moment. The second Cherry Pie started blasting through the speakers, Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. Alfred suddenly straddling him, and Arthur let the alcohol cloud his judgement. 

Everyone around them started to cheer, and Gilbert looked up from his spot on Matthew’s shoulder. 

“Th-this is incest..” Matthew mumbled, but Gilbert shrugged. 

“Isn’t everything at this point?”

Francis, however, was the only one not cheering. The man was now gripping his (4th) bottle of wine, blue eyes narrowed as he watched the scene in front of him. Normally the Frenchman would have shied away as Ivan came to stand beside him, but now he barely seemed to notice.

“This is funny, da?”

Francis grunted, taking a swig from his wine bottle. 

“Yeah. Fucking hilarious.” He muttered, and for a second, the murderous look in his eyes was so terrifying that it gave even Ivan a run for his money. Ivan took a slight step away from Francis, who brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. 

It wasn’t until Alfred began to unbutton his pants as a joke that Francis had had enough. The wine bottle was suddenly being smashed against the wall, and just as everyone screamed in surprise, Francis had stormed across the room and seized Alfred by the shoulder, yanking him back. The older nation’s fist collided roughly with Alfred’s jaw, knocking him to the ground, and Alfred suddenly found there was a broken bottle being pressed at his neck. 

“Francis, what the fuck?!”

Arthur had jumped to his feet, having sobered up quite quickly, green eyes now wide. Francis was glaring, leaning down until he was close enough to Alfred that the American could smell the wine on his breath.

“Listen here, you little shit. You’ve caused him enough pain, don’t you think? Why don’t you just-”

“Francis!” Arthur shouted, managing to reach around and grab ahold of the wrist that held the broken wine bottle, prying said bottle from his hands. Francis spun on him as Arthur threw the bottle away, though there was still a new, angry fire in Francis’ eyes.

“What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?!” Arthur asked firmly, his arms crossing over his chest. Francis let out a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes. 

“You don’t know? You honestly don’t fucking know?” He snapped, and Arthur suddenly felt hands grasp at his collar, and his lips were crashing into Francis’ in a hard kiss. He could feel Francis’ fists beginning to uncurl and rest lightly on his shoulders, all the anger draining out of his body. 

It was only when Matthew had moved Gilbert and ran over to his brothers side, quietly asking him if he was alright, that Francis realized what he had done. He quickly released his grip on Arthur, breaking the kiss in order to take a step back. The anger in his eyes had been replaced with regret, and when he turned towards Alfred, he felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

Matthew was knelt beside Alfred, his arms protectively wrapped around his brother. Alfred was gripping onto Matt’s arm, eyes wide as he stared up at Francis. As Francis moved to take a step forward Alfred flinched, and Matt tightened his grip. 

“Just-just don’t.” Matthew mumbled, frowning. “not...not right now.” 

Francis was doing everything he possibly could do keep the tears from falling. He had struck Alfred. He had...oh my god, he had kissed Arthur. This was too much. He needed to leave. 

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he breathed out, bringing up a shaky hand to run it through his hair. When Arthur moved towards him and tried to put a hand on his arm Francis jerked away, though they locked eyes for only a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

Francis turned and bolted, bursting through the front doors of the bar and out into the street. All eyes were now on Arthur, who was still slightly stunned from the entire ordeal. Before anyone really had time to react, Arthur was shouting Francis’ name, and racing out the front doors after him. 

When the doors shut and the pair were gone, everyone looked back towards Arthur and Matthew. Matthew had helped Alfred back up to his feet and gotten him his shirt back, which Alfred was gratefully putting on. The pair shared a small smile, and Alfred took a deep breath, readjusting his glasses.

“Well, one good thing did come out of this.” Gilbert said as he rose from his spot on the floor, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s that?” Alfred muttered, running a hand through his hair in order to fix it. 

This time it was Antonio who spoke, holding a bag of ice that Lovino had gotten him to the back of his throat. He and Gilbert shared a slight grin, and Alfred saw Antonio hand Gilbert a dollar. 

“We’ve been telling him to kiss Arthur for decades now.” 

Alfred rolled his eyes, sinking down into the seat Arthur had previously occupied. He looked up to see that Ivan was now standing over him, smiling sympathetically and holding out a blue ice pack. Alfred quietly thanked him as he took it and pressed it to his jaw. 

After that, everyone more or less went back to their quiet conversations. Ivan and Matthew stayed by Alfred’s side for the rest of the night, though Alfred kept glancing back towards the front doors, half expecting Arthur and Francis to come back in, hand in hand and laughing about something stupid.

They didn’t, of course, and it only made Alfred feel worse.

He vaguely remembered Ludwig and Feliciano leaving the bar around 3am, hand in hand and staying uncomfortably close to the other. There were bruises on Ludwig’s neck, and Feliciano was redder than he had ever seen him.

Alfred thought he saw Antonio and Lovino leave too, Gilbert dragging along behind them. The one thing he remembered about Gilbert leaving was Gilbert running over to give Matthew a hug and a drunken kiss on the top of the head, before Antonio was grabbing him by the hand and pulling him towards the door.

Alfred turned his full attention back to Matthew and Ivan who were quietly talking about the amount of snow they get throughout the year, comparing their countries. 

He cleared his throat to get their attention, and they both flashed him a smile, which he softly returned.

“At least we’ll have something interesting to talk about at the next world meeting.” Matthew murmured, and after a moment, both Alfred and Ivan began to laugh.

Well, it was true.


	6. Paintball - America

This was it. This was how Ludwig died. "What do you mean 'shorts'??" He demanded, looking at the foreign object Feliciano was holding up proudly. "They are like pants, Ludwig, but they only go to your knees," he explained. Ludwig shook his head quickly.

"Come onnnnn, Luddy!!" Feliciano demanded, putting the offensive article of clothing firmly into a suitcase and tugging on the German's hand, "the place we are going in America is HOT!! So we have to wear summer clothes or else WE'LL get too hot and cook like potatoes."

Ludwig mused aloud that he should like to be a potato, however cooking like one sounded sub-optimal. "Exactly!" Feliciano put his hands to his hips, "I've packed, now let's go!!"

"What," Ludwig regard the suitcases suspiciously, "b- but I always pack." Feliciano grinned widely and pulled at his hands, "you carry them all downstairs! Alfred is waiting!"

"What are you carrying!" Ludwig shouted as Feliciano skipped from the room. "Your heart!!" The tiny Italian called back, singing his way down the stairs. Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Alfred pulled up to the curb in an absolute monstrosity of a minivan? Bus? That looked like it had been stolen from a summer camp that went out of business several decades ago. The tailpipe coughed exhaust as Alfred shouted "GET IN LOSERS, WE’RE GOING PAINTBALLING!"

Ludwig dumped the bags in the sizeable trunk, and Feliciano pulled him into the backseat. Immediately, Feli tangled their fingers together and gazed up at him shyly. Ludwig momentarily forgot to breath-- feeling like a middle schooler sneaking away to the back of the bus.

Paintballing. Paintballing could be fun.

 

And that was how Ludwig found himself crammed in a 12 seater summer camp bus full of goddamn idiots and Alfred F. Jones driving. Alfred took the turns too steeply and had run a total of 5 red lights.

Not that they could really get arrested but.... Ludwig supposed they could get pulled over.

Feli seemed quite pleased with the whole ride however, and that alone calmed Ludwig enough to ignore the many rules of the road which had been so insultingly broken. Feli was softly humming to himself now-- something about drawing circles and the earth-- and gazing fondly out the window. He was situated to Ludwig's left, with Kiku sitting quietly on Ludwig's right. They were all squished into the very back bench seat.

Felicano had his slender fingers laced with Ludwig's, and every now and then Ludwig would rub his thumb in a circular motion and Feli would sigh softly. The places they lightly touched, a reassurance, were still like lightning to Ludwig. They always were. Their palms, their thighs in the cramped backseat.

They'd long since lost interest in car games-- I-Spy and the Alphabetical Animals game could only be played so many times. Now Feliciano was content to watch out the window, drifting in and out of focus, and Ludwig was content to do the same, only watching him.

 

"Ludwig!" Feliciano called happily. Ludwig smiled at the ground, and walked to his Italian. Yes, the equipment was a little to tight and a little too reminiscent of the bulletproof vests he'd worn for so many years at war, but what stupid everyday fun thing didn't remind Ludwig of the war. He shook the thoughts off.

"Matthew!" Alfred chose next. The Canadian looked up in surprise, but hurried to stand by his brother's side. The pair shared a grin, and Alfred clapped his brother on the back.

Feliciano and Alfred were the team captains. Alfred was no surprise, but Feli volunteering for the role.... Ludwig squinted down at him happily, confidence and chattiness were two entirely different things. And lately Feli was getting more confident, more sure of himself. That was a good thing. Sure, he was still a klutz and still rambled (not that Ludwig was complaining, it was adorable), but he clearly thought himself capable of leading a team, even if it was only in one of Alfred's games.

"Kiku!" Italy said happily.

"Angry tomato brother," Alfred said pointing at Lovino, "you look ready to kick some ass." Lovino hissed at him, folding his arms. "I'm kidding, Lovino, get over here man!" Lovino still scowled and hissed.

"Oh no fair!" Feliciano called, "I wanted Lovi!" (Lovi smiled a little at all the attention). Feliciano deliberated, "okay then, Antonio!" Antonio smiled and joined the axis powers.

"Francis!" Alfred yelled, "aw yeah, cmon man, we're building the dream team!" The Frenchman shouldered his gear.

"You should invite Yao to our team, Mr. Italy," Kiku said quietly. Feliciano did.

"Gilbert!" Francis called, and thus it was decided.

Arthur and Ivan were the only ones left. Ivan looked completely at ease, but Arthur looked almost ready to cry, Feliciano realized suddenly. Picked last, possibly after Ivan.... "Arthur! Yoo hoo! Arthur! Come join our team!" Arthur blushed and headed for them.

"Ivan, buddy, you're with us," Alfred said, already beginning to stretch. Gilbert gave him a confused look as he watched Alfred begin to do on the spot lunges.  
"Oh yay, a team," said Ivan happily, heading towards him.

Ludwig hefted the paintball ammunition pack onto his shoulder. These things were heavy. He looked to Feliciano, who hadn't tried lifting his yet, and sighed. Ludwig was probably going to end up carrying Feliciano's too.

"Group huddle!!" Feliciano pulled them all in by the shoulders.

Damnit, Ludwig's thinking was slipping again, the clasps that secured Feliciano's chest armour to his back armour looked exactly like the ones on the old uniforms. He never wanted Feli in armour again. Not covered in blood, gasping, shocked, trying desperately to kick or move his legs that were not quite responding as Ludwig, shaking and unable to breath, pulled him off the field that was supposed to be secure.... 

_"You'll be okay Feli, you can't die. We can't die. Stay still. Please, Feli. Please, please."_

_“It-it hurts, Luddy-”_

_“I know, Italien, don’t move. I’m right here.”_

"Luddy?" Feli touched his arm and looked up at him, eyes all big and full of concern. But all that did was tumble Ludwig into other memories. Verdammit. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea, he should've known.

No. He was fine. Felicano squeezed his arm reassuringly, and he nodded. He let his eyes wander over the grassy expanses of rural Georgia, the plant life in yellows and oranges and the sky large over head. He let himself feel the hot breeze and the rise and fall of not his own breathing, but Feli's. Feli's hand on his wrist, the way his feet fit into the soles of his old running shoes. He let himself feel stick of sweat on the back of his neck, and the temperature that was still rising as the sun climbed the sky.

The other team dissolved into cheering and chaos, having apparently made a plan. Lovino ran haphazardly at his brother, grinning in a concerning way, before grabbing his hand away Ludwig and shouting happily, "I want Feli on our team!"

Lovino began to pull him away by the hand, while Feliciano made a quiet noise of protest.

_He was hitting Feli. Again and again until the tiny Italian choked and coughed blood onto the cobblestones, head lolling weakly, his lip cut and his nose bleeding. Ludwig was in hysterics, throwing himself forward, slipping, falling, the metal bindings around his wrists cutting at his skin. He screamed incoherently as the Italian army men in full uniform, strapped up with radios and batons and so, so many guns, hauled Feliciano away from him._

_They can't shoot a country but apparently they can stop his heart._

_Something happened with Italy's boss. He's going away now. Sit down and be a good boy now, Ludwig._

_Italy kicked and screamed, twisting and biting the man holding him. He fell and knocked his head against the bumper of the idling armoured vehicle. Eventually they got a hold of him and roughly hoisted him, throwing him into the back of the vehicle, like laundry, like vegetables. Like an asset moved from place to place, cause to cause, not even a person. Ludwig's screaming found words as he slipped and his knees connected bloodily with the ground._

_"Feliciano, I'll find you! I'll find you, don't worry! You're safe, you're strong, do whatever they ask. Please, Felicano. Be strong for me, I'm coming to get you don't worry!"_

_Even from the considerable distance Ludwig could see his lips part, his eyebrows relax. Feliciano was out cold, and still Ludwig yelled. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever stop yelling._

_By the time the dust had settled and the truck was out of view, Ludwig was seeing the world as though it was a dream, a thick pane of glass separating him and the numbness seeping into his knees, his wrists._

_The head guard of the compound, a cruel man named Maxus, sauntered over and kicked Ludwig to the ground, "I never thought we would completely break you, Ludwig. Turns out this was the trick," he sneered. Maxus attached his shackles to a movable post, but Ludwig couldn't move. How on earth did Maxus think he could move? He would never move again._

_"I'm sorry to say you will not be seeing your little Italian again." Maxus said, beginning to drag him across the stones. Ludwig's wrists screamed, but he barely felt it. Suddenly, there was breath in his lungs. He ground the shackles into the dirt and rolled to his knees._

_"Oh I will," he said, and though it was far away, down a tunnel of light, it was clearly his voice, "right I after I kill you, you bastard. Limb by limb, nice and slowly.”_

_Maxus had the decency to look terrified._

__

_"It's nothing I could do, Italy's leader is siding with the Allies.”_

_"The let me go after him. Let me join the goddamn Allies! I am a person with rights! Just like all the other goddamn people in this country! Let me go! Let them go! I want no part in your empire!" Ludwig tried to calm his breathing, his heart pounding erratically in his chest._

_The General stirred his tea, and stared him down, sighing, "you are bleeding onto my carpet, Ludwig. Are you really this broken? You don't want to leave the war, yet the war is who you are. You accepted this long ago. Even if you don't agree with us, we are your country. You don’t have a choice, Deutschland.”_

_"To hell with you! You are the most vile scum I have ever come across and once I get Feliciano back I'm rooting for the allies. I don't care what you're going to do with me, it will happen, and there will be nothing you can do to stop it."_

_The General laughed, sipping his tea, as if this was something that happened once every Tuesday._

_Ludwig stood. "General Nothurst. Look me in the eyes and tell me if I am a man who fears you."_

_The teacup shook. Ludwig knew he’d won, in a sense. Two guards seized either arm, and Ludwig’s eyes narrowed as the General slowly stood._

_"Put him in the goddamn dungeon!”_

 

_Ludwig was running. They were on the battlefield, the remaining Axis powers against the Allies. Ludwig wasn’t sure if he could do this. Even Kiku seemed scared, though the other nation would never actually voice his fear._

_He hadn’t officially seen Feli in close to two years, but Ludwig had a sinking suspicion that he was going to be here today. He knew this was it. This was the last fight. It was the Battle of Berlin. Though Ludwig knew Gilbert was around somewhere, he just hoped he’d be able to get away before the others caught him. Ludwig’s boss had killed himself at the start of the battle. Ludwig was on his own._

_This really was it._

_He stopped running when he heard a strangled shout from behind him. Kiku. The German turned around to see Arthur on the ground beside Kiku, one foot pressed against his back in order to keep him down. There was a gun being aimed at the back of his head, but he knew Arthur wouldn’t shoot. There was no point. Yao was standing beside Arthur, though he couldn’t find it in himself to look down at Kiku. It was too much. Ivan had a hand on his back, attempting to offer some sort of silent comfort. It took a second, but Yao finally allowed Ivan to pull him into a hug, and he let Ivan pull him back a few steps so Yao didn’t have to watch his brother being captured. Ivan had his moments of clarity, Ludwig thought, where all he wanted was to support others. If only he could stay like that all the time._

_Ludwig barely had time to realize that Alfred was now standing in front of him, gripping his gun in his right hand. The American looked tired. War really took a toll on you, after a while._

_“It’ll be easier on all of us if you surrender, Beilschmidt. It...it’ll be easier on him.”_

_He gestured behind him, and Ludwig glanced over his shoulder to see what Alfred was talking about. He first saw Matthew, in full military armour, on his knees, holding a smaller, trembling body close to his chest. Matthew had always liked keeping the peace more than he did actual fighting._

_It took Ludwig a moment to realize that Matthew was cradling Feliciano, who was weakly struggling to get out of his arms in an attempt to reach Ludwig._

_Ludwig’s entire body had begun shaking. He took a step forward, reaching out a hand, but Alfred’s gun to his temple made him stop._

_“Don’t move. Drop your gun, surrender,” he breathed, and Ludwig could see the regret in his eyes, “it’ll help with your punishment if you surrender. They’ll give you a lesser sentence than if we take you by force.”_

_“Will...will I be able to see Feliciano if I-I surrender?”_

_Alfred faltered for a moment, sympathy flashing in his eyes._

_“Put your hands up, wait for Arthur and the others to see, and then I’ll tell Mattie to let go of Feliciano. Deal?”_

_Slowly but shakily, Ludwig soon found himself dropping his gun and raising his hands in surrender, letting his eyes fall shut._

_He heard Alfred shout something back to the group, followed by quick footsteps, and he opened his eyes just in time to see Feliciano running at him, openly sobbing._

 

All Feliciano saw was a paintball fly passed him, slamming itself into Lovino’s helmet. His twin gasped and staggered forward, releasing his grip on Feli’s hand as he fell. Antonio was over in an instant (had he been there the entire time?), removing Lovino’s helmet to see if the Italian had actually been injured. 

Feli spun around to see that Ludwig had been the one to fire the paintball. The German was slouched over slightly, his chest heaving, and tears having begun to leak out of the corners of his eyes. The game hadn’t even started yet, but Feliciano was smart enough to know that something was seriously, seriously wrong. 

Setting his gun down on the ground, Feli began to run back towards Ludwig. The moment he was within reach, two strong arms had dropped their gun and grabbed ahold of him, and Feli found himself being pulled up against a strong chest. Ludwig was trembling, and Feliciano reached up to wrap his arms around him.

“Luddy?”

“D-don’t leave me a-again. Don’t listen to-to y-your boss-stay w-with me, Feli-”

Feli felt a chill run down his spine. He hated to think about when he was forced to abandon Ludwig during the war. It still haunted his dreams to this day. He pulled away enough so he could grab Ludwig’s hand, beginning to tug him in the general direction of where Alfred had parked the bus.

“Kiku, lead the team!” Feliciano yelled, earning a quick nod from the other nation. 

Ludwig stuck very close to Feliciano the entire way back to the bus. Once they were on it Feli took Ludwig to the long seat at the back, pulling off his own bulletproof vest. Ludwig didn’t need all these extra reminders. He threw up back to the opposite end of the bus, then curled up with Ludwig on the seat. It took a bit of effort since Ludwig was much bigger than him, but Feliciano managed to get Ludwig to more or less lay down, his head resting on Feli’s knee. It reminded him of the bar. Slender fingers ran their way through Ludwig’s hair as Feliciano spoke in a soft whisper.

“I am right here, Ludwig. I would never leave you, va bene? Never on purpose.” He murmured, all silliness and joy having left his voice. Ludwig having a breakdown like this was rare, and Feli knew he had to be the strong one for once. For Ludwig. 

Ludwig opened his eyes to look up at his partner, and Feli’s heart broke when he saw the sadness in them.

“Promise me?”

Feliciano gave the larger man a smile, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. When he pulled back up he used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves, then brought Ludwig’s hand up and linked their pinkies together. He saw Ludwig give a faint smile in return, and he heard him sniffle.

“Promise! You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried now, Luddy!”

 

After Feliciano had removed himself and Ludwig from the game, it officially began. 

Matthew and Gilbert had been lucky enough to be on the same team. This, however, meant it would be hell for everyone else, since they had to put up with all the bullshit memes and quiet weed jokes from the other.

Surprisingly enough, they were the actually more efficient ones in their group. Matthew knew his way around guns. He had actually done quite a bit during the last world war, but England had taken credit for some of the things Matthew had been ashamed of. Matthew couldn’t actually remember what he had really done and what he hadn’t anymore.

Gilbert of course had been in more wars than he could count. The German bastard knew what the fuck he was doing.

He and Mattie made a kick ass team. Gilbert went ahead of Matt, clutching his gun as he looked around. Matthew took up the rear, watching from behind. They were covered from all angles. It had been Matthew’s idea, and it had been brilliant.

That was, until they somehow got separated.

Gilbert was hiding behind a tree, attempting to wait it out until Matt showed up. Gilbert may have seen a spider on the trail they’d been walking on, and he may or may not have taken off in a panicked sprint. Now Matt was way back down the trail, and Gilbert had to wait for his buddy to return. 

He suddenly felt the tip of a paintball gun being pressed against his back, and Gilbert’s blood ran cold. This was...way too familiar for his liking.

“Surrender now, Gil. I...I don’t want to do this, but we’re on different sides.” Antonio’s voice was quiet and full of (fake) emotion, and while Gilbert knew Antonio was just trying to fuck with his friend, Gilbert suddenly found his gun sliding out of his hands and landing onto the ground behind him. 

 

_It was the end of the war. Gilbert had been helping a very tired, exhausted Ludwig with whatever his baby brother needed, but Gilbert had a sinking feeling that this would be the final fight. Feliciano had surrendered (by force, mind you) to the Allies, and all fight Ludwig seemed to have had simply drained from his body. He knew he was on the losing side of this war._

_Gilbert felt the tip of a rifle being pressed against his back, and his blood ran cold. The gun was shaking slightly, and Gilbert didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind him._

_“S-surrender now, Gil. I...I don’t want to do this, but we’re on different sides.” Francis’ voice was wavering dangerously. He was pointing a gun at one of his best friends. Gilbert would have been an emotional wreck too._

_“You know I can’t do that, Francis.”_

_Gilbert slowly found the courage to turn around and face his friend. Francis was avoiding eye contact like his life depended on it, and Gilbert swallowed the lump forming in his throat._

_“What about Ludwig?”_

_“Arthur and Alfred are taking care of it, with a little extra help from Ivan.”_

_Gilbert shuddered at the thought. He just hoped Ludwig didn’t go down without a fight._

_“What’ll happen to him?”_

_“He’ll have his territory divided up, at least for a little while,” Francis paused, and blue eyes suddenly met red ones, “Gil...they...they have different plans for you.”_

 

_Gilbert remembered exactly how it felt when the final name signed Control Council Law No. 46._

_Ludwig was kneeling beside him, both brothers staring straight ahead. His land had already been divided, and while Ludwig was beaten, bloody, and broken, Gilbert found some comfort in knowing that his little brother was alright._

_The one humane thing the allies had let them do, was they allowed Gilbert and Ludwig to be as close as they wanted to the other. The brothers were practically hip to hip on the floor, though no one could see how tightly their hands were clasped together._

_Gilbert could hear ringing in his ears. Ludwig had been protesting this new punishment since the moment it had been brought up, and Gilbert didn’t have to look at him to know there were tears in Ludwig’s eyes._

_Red eyes slowly scanned the room. Despite the fact that only four people had signed it, everyone Gilbert knew was there. Roderich was standing beside Elizabeta in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped tightly around her, and Gilbert saw him softly mumble, ‘don’t watch’ into her ear._

_The moment Francis had put down the pen, Arthur had pulled Francis into a tight embrace, one hand resting lightly on the back of his head while Francis shook in his arms. For a long moment the room was silent, and all Gilbert could hear was Francis’ muffled sobs against Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur’s quiet words of comfort._

_After a moment, a tiny man Gilbert had only seen once before was making his way over to Arthur and Francis. There was a soft tap on the Frenchman’s shoulder, and he could only mumble a quiet, ‘oh, Mattie-’ before he was falling into a new set of open arms, clinging to the smaller man._

_Arthur sucked in a sharp breath once Francis was out of his arms. They needed to finish this. Shaky hands picked up the piece of paper in front of him, and Gilbert forced his eyes shut. Ludwig was screaming from beside him now, and all Gilbert could do was squeeze his hand in an attempt at reassurance._

_“With this, I hereby announce-” Arthur paused, and Gilbert couldn’t help but laugh shakily._

_“It’s...it’s German. It means the Kingdom of Prussia.”_

_Arthur glanced at him only for a moment, before he repeated the words. Ludwig was suddenly turning to face Gilbert, and two hands now clutching his arm. He made eye contact with his brother, and though there were tears in his own eyes, he had to be strong. For Ludwig._

_“It’ll be-be fine. Nothing can kill the awesome Prussia.”_

_“-Is officially-”_

_“Promise?”_

_“Would I lie to you?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“-dissolved.”_

_The pain that came next was something Gilbert wouldn’t wish on his own enemy. It felt like he was being burnt alive from the inside. He could hear people yelling around him, Ludwig, Francis, he could even hear the quiet yells of Antonio (who was being held back by both Alfred AND Lovino, neither one had the heart to look down at Gilbert). He could also hear his own screams ringing in his ears._

_The last thing he remembered was feeling like a piece of himself was being ripped away, torn apart in front of his very eyes, before the room began to spin. Ludwig was suddenly being dragged away from him, and Gilbert saw Feliciano trying to run to him out of the corner of his eye. When Gilbert’s screaming stopped, the last thing he saw was Ivan slowly coming over to kneel down in front of him._

_“Let’s go home, da?”_

 

When Gilbert opened his eyes, the gun was still being pressed into his back. He couldn’t do it. Not again. The second his gun fell out of his hands he was running, sprinting down the path in an attempt to find Matthew. He could hear Antonio laugh and chase after him, the Spaniard most likely assuming this was part of the game. The tears in Gilbert’s eyes proved otherwise, though.

Gilbert all but bumped straight into Matthew when he was far enough down the path. Matthew was still holding his gun, but when he saw the panicked state Gilbert was in, he set it down next to him and grabbed ahold of his shoulders.

“G-Gil? What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

Gilbert finally choked back a sob, gloved hands gripping Matthew’s arms like there was no tomorrow.

“D-Don-Don’t let them d-d-dis-dissolve me again, Birdie, bitte, bitte, nicht weider-”

Matt knew enough German to know that Gilbert was quite literally pleading with him for his life, and as he stared at his friend, something inside him fucking snapped.

The second he saw Antonio racing down the path, Matthew had sprung into action. 

He had Gilbert stand behind him as Matthew picked up his gun again. Fuck this. All he knew was Antonio had hurt Gilbert in some way that had Gil convinced they were going to dissolve him again. 

Antonio came to a sudden halt when he saw Matthew’s gun being pointed directly at him, and the quivering mess that was Gilbert Beilschmidt standing behind him. What had he done? Antonio lowered his own gun, frowning, concern overwhelming him. 

“Gil-?”

“Back the fuck up, Spain.” Matthew muttered, glaring daggers at him. “My dads taught me to shoot-” Matt noticed how quickly Antonio paled, “-and I won’t hesitate. I’m not shitting around.”

Antonio swallowed the lump in his throat, flashing his friends a quick, yet nervous grin. Lovino was supposed to be coming up from the other side of the path any second now. He just had to stall.

“S-since when do you swear? Mattie, you wouldn’t actually shoot me, would-”

Matthew clearly heard something behind him, because the Canadian spun around. Gilbert was being moved along with him, Matt still guarding him protectively. Matthew didn’t hesitate to shoot at the first thing he saw move, which just happened to be Lovino. Antonio watched as Lovino got hit square in the chest, then in the leg, just for added measure. Matthew was fully aware that paintballs hurt, depending on where you get hit. 

Lovino dropped to the ground on the centre of the path, grabbing his leg and hissing in pain.

“That hurt, you fucking snowflake!”

“Lovi-” Antonio was rushing forward before he could stop himself, and Matthew turned on him. A paintball collided with his shoulder with enough strength to knock him down, and Antonio fought back a groan. Fuck. That had hit him right on the bone. When he took the time to sit up, he noticed that Gilbert had fallen to his knees, and Matthew was crouched in front of him, attempting to get his attention.

Matt had removed both gloves, his hands now against Gilbert’s cheeks, tilting Gilbert’s chin up so they were looking at each other.

“Gil, can you hear me? Y-You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you. I-I’ve got you.”  
“Ma-Mattie...”  
“I’m right here, Gil. No one is going to lay a hand on you. Count to ten with me, okay? Nice and slow.”

The pair counted to ten in their respective languages. Matthew had started out counting in German, but he could only get to 4 before he reverted back to english. They did this until Gilbert’s breathing had evened out, and the tears had stopped falling.

Antonio watched as Matthew pulled Gilbert in for a tight hug, shushing the shaking man softly. Across the path, Toni saw that Lovino was staring intently at him. Both of them were scared to even move an inch.

‘Are you alright?’ Antonio mouthed, and Lovino gave his friend a small thumbs up in response, before laying flat out on the dirt, quietly cursing under his breath. 

 

Arthur had lost his team after a while. Ludwig and Feli were done, Gilbert and Matt were off God knows where, and Kiku was probably preforming some kick-ass moves with Yao right about now. That left Arthur, wandering around with his gun, alone. He came to a halt after a little while, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

“Hey, England!” 

The loud voice behind him made him jump. Arthur spun around, gun at the ready, only to see Alfred standing with his gun in his hands, smirking excitedly. Alfred had always been competitive. Ivan and Francis were on either side of him, and Arthur felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks when he saw Francis wink at him. 

Arthur stood his ground. 

“Fuck off, Alfred. Kiku promised me 10 pounds if I can convince you to come over to our team.”

Alfred laughed, checking to make sure there was enough ammunition in his paintball gun.

“I just want my freedom, buddy! Can’t you give me that?”

Something caused Arthur to feel like he was being stabbed in the chest. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, his fingers tightening around the plastic of the gun in his hands.

“Come...come on now, Al.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Artie! I can pick which fucking paintball team i wanna be on.”

Arthur began to take a step forward. They had been through this before. Arthur knew it all too well. What shocked him to his core was when Alfred pointed the gun, and fired.

The paintball missed, just barely, but Arthur had stopped dead in his tracks. Alfred was going to shoot him. Sure, they were paintballs, but the fact that Alfred hadn’t even hesitated...it was enough to make Arthur feel like he was being strangled to death. For a moment, the image in front him flickered from modern day Alfred, to a teenage Alfred, soaking wet in a military uniform, the gun still pointing directly at him. He wanted his independence. He wanted to be away from Arthur. What had Arthur done wrong? 

Alfred fired again, this time hitting Arthur in the stomach, causing the other nation to fall over. Alfred began to cheer, turning to a smiling Ivan.

“Now all we gotta do is find Kiku and Yao, kick their buts, and we win! WE’RE THE HEROES!” He shouted, grabbing Ivan’s wrist to drag him along. Ivan compiled willingly, letting out a soft laugh as he followed, leaving Francis alone with Arthur, who was now on his hands and knees.

Francis slowly made his way over, kneeling down in front of his friend. Were they even friends? They had raised two children together. Sure, it had been over a hundred years since they’d broken up (The Hundred Years War had been hard on both of them), but they were together once. They raised two beautiful boys. One of which had just shot at his father. Twice. 

They had all been happy once. 

Francis reached forward, placing a hand lightly on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur slowly lifted his head, and Francis’ heart shattered at the sight of the broken man in front of him.

Arthur appeared to be seconds away from breaking down in tears. Francis knew this was probably a long time coming, but it didn’t make it any painless. The pair stared at each other in silence, before Francis gathered Arthur into his arms and pulled him into a tight hug.

“He does not hate you, you know.”

Arthur scoffed, burying his face in the crook of Francis’ neck. 

“Y-yes he does. He thinks I’m a piece of shite, Francis. I gave him everything I-I had, I thought I was doing what was good for him, and now he-” 

Arthur was silenced by Francis quickly pulling him up, pressing their lips together in order to shut him up into a stunned silence. It worked, though. When they broke apart, Arthur could only stare up at him, green eyes wide as Francis smiled down at him.

“He does not hate you, mon petit lapin. I know.”

“H-how?”

“I just do! I know everything.” Francis grinned, reaching up to wipe the tears away on Arthur’s cheeks with his thumbs. Arthur absentmindedly leaned into Francis’ hands, closing his eyes. Normally he would have responded with something cheeky about how Francis is dumber than an ACTUAL rabbit, but Arthur didn’t have the energy.

“Can-can we just go back to the bus? I don’t feel like playing anymore.” He muttered, and Francis hummed in agreement.

“I suppose so, Angleterre.”

The next thing Arthur knew, he was being scooped up and carried bridal style back towards the bus. Francis looked quite proud of himself, actually. Arthur glanced around them to make sure that no one was there to see, before resting his head on Francis’ shoulder, his arms wrapping around his neck.  
Alfred may be gone, but he’d always have Francis.

 

The drive home was awkward (for Alfred), to say the least. 

Ludwig and Feliciano were still together in the back seat, and Feliciano was pleased to see that Ludwig had actually fallen asleep with his head in Feli’s lap, while Feli continued to play with his hair. Feli was having a hushed conversation with Lovi and Antonio who were sitting in the seat in front of him, though they made sure to keep their voices down. As much as Lovino hated the potato bastard, he had been the cause of the breakdown he had experienced, and he felt bad.

Matthew had not let go of Gilbert’s hand once since they left the forest. They were curled up together near the front of the bus, one big blanket wrapped around both of their shoulders, playing their 9th game of 20 questions. Gilbert was supposed to guess what Matthew was.

“Are you an object?”

“Yes.”

“Are you small?”

“Yes.”

“Are you brown?”

“...Yes.”

“Sticky?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re maple syrup. NOT AUNT JEMIMA, THOUGH.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!? HOW DID YOU KNOW!?”

The pair stared at each other for a moment, before both bursting into a loud fit of laughter. To them, it seemed like the rest of the bus didn’t even exist. It was just them.

Arthur and Francis were near the middle of the bus. Francis had the isle seat, and Arthur had the window seat, due to it being much more hidden and tucked away. His legs were over Francis’ lap and his back was pressed up against the window, while Francis traced his hand lightly up and down Arthur’s calf, neither one of them actually noticing. Every now and then Francis would grab Arthur by the arm, tugging him in until the Englishman was close enough, and he’d plant a quick kiss on his lips. It never once failed to make Arthur flush a bright red, and break out in a wide smile. 

Alfred was driving them back home, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced over to see Ivan standing beside him, grinning down at him.

“Let us play ISpy while you drive, da? It make time pass!”

Alfred let out a sigh, reluctantly nodding.

“Sure, big guy. You go first.”

The Russian hummed, and Alfred felt Ivan squeeze his shoulder.

“I Spy an Amerika who is sad.” 

Alfred startled, and he couldn’t stop himself from frowning.

“I’m...I’m not sad, Ivan.”

“And I am not a ballet dancer.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Alfred sighed, turning his attention back to the road. When Ivan squeezed his shoulder again, Alfred caved.

“Everyone had freak-outs because I brought them here. If I’d kept my fucking mouth shut, everyone would have been fine.”

Alfred heard Ivan sigh from beside him, and the hand removed itself from his shoulder. It softly began to pet his head, like he was a cat, and Alfred’s face turned to once of confusion. Ivan was fucking weir. 

“We all make mistakes, Amerika. Even menya!” He smiled, never once having it fall from his face. His moments of clarity weren’t very often, and all Ivan wanted do was smile genuinely as much as possible, and help out his friends. The more friends, the more reason he had to fight back against the other side of himself that he absolutely despised. Maybe one day, he’d half enough reason to fight back enough that the darkness never came back, and he stayed this way forever.

That would be nice, Ivan thought. 

“I just...what if they all hate me now, Ivan?” Alfred asked in a whisper, and Ivan could hear the fear laced in his comrades voice.

“Alfred. We have been at war, many-a time. I do not hate you! Neither do they.” He grinned, and a gloved hand ruffled Alfred’s hair, “even if they do, Ivan will always be here for you!”

Ivan could see a small, hesitant smile starting to make its way back onto Alfred’s face. Ah, good. He was doing something right!

“Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem, Amerika.” 

“Okay. Let’s keep going, yeah?”

Ivan looked momentarily confused.

“With what?”

“Our game. It’s my turn, right?”

Ivan smiled, and nodded enthusiastically. He leaned on the back of Alfred’s chair while the American thought.

“Oh! I’ve got one. I Spy, with my little eye...”


	7. Sleepover- Prussia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH GOD. 
> 
> Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovino's neck, his knees pressing into Lovino's side, all tangled up and too close. 
> 
> OH GOD. 
> 
> Antonio smelled like home. 
> 
> OH GOD. 
> 
> Lovino couldn't look at his face. His eyes kept flittering around, until finally he squeezed them shut. He could feel Antonio's breath. 
> 
> OH GOD. 
> 
> Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. 
> 
> ****
> 
> Gilbert has the brilliant idea to have a sleepover at Alfred's house. Lovino's never kissed anybody, Feliciano seems to have done EVERYTHING anybody can come up with in never-have-I-ever, Alfred cracks out the spin the bottle vodka, and Yao and Kiku have a plan to get get certain people in a closet together.

Francis woke up with both of Arthur's little ankle socks balled up under the small of his back, and groaned. 

This awoke Arthur, who breathed in a face full of Francis' hair, coughed and squirmed angrily away from the Frenchman. What had used to be a loving embrace was now a sweaty, confusing hell. He felt his hair sleepily, realizing with a start that the slimy, lemony coating was in fact dish soap. 

Beside him, Lovino was stirring. Somehow Antonio, who had been a safe distance from him falling asleep, was curled entirely on his chest like a a cat. One hand was tightly fisted in the material of lovino's shirt, the other clenching a tomato he whipped out after everyone had fallen asleep. Lovino attempted to sit up, but couldn't move. "Antonio. What the hell?" Antonio smiled and nuzzled into the tomato, "it's my comfort toy, Lovi." 

"You're over a thousand years old!" Lovino burst out, "and you're heaaaaavy! Get offa me!!" Spain let out an oof and then a yelp as he was tumbled to the ground, squishing the tomato. 

Matthew was sleeping like the only sensible person, curled up in a sleeping bag printed with maple leaves, but as the noise level in the room grew, he began to wake up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Gilbert was passed out along side him, with no blanket, but his silk robe tangled over his head. Matthew looked at him and sighed. On matthew's other side was Alfred, blanket less and squirming on the ground, his feet poking into matthew's spleen, and his arms sprawled over Kiku and Yao. 

Kiku and Yao had been up for hours, talking quietly and rolling eyes every time Alfred flailed. 

Feliciano and Ludwig, who had claimed Alfred's couch, slept peacefully through the chaos. 

**24 hours prior** 

"IVE DECIDED MY VACATION DESTINATION!!" Gilbert announced, "OF ALL MY AWESOME IDEAS, THIS IS TH AWESOME-EST!! WE'RE GOING TO HAVE-- A SLEEPOVER!!" 

**

Matt was shook. 

He was 150 fucking years old and he was standing on Alfred's front steps with an overnight bag and a sleeping bag. Matt took a deep breath. He was always anxious sleeping somewhere other than his own house. 

** 

This was it. This was how Ludwig died. Feliciano was in short cut ruffled flannel pj shorts, red and adorned with white hearts, and a long sleeve sleepy top. His shirt was falling off one shoulder as he leaned over Arthur to spill popcorn and animatedly explain the plot of some movie Ludwig hadn't yet seen. 

Ludwig carefully placed his sleeping bag and overnight bag in the corner. He could do this. He could humour Gilbert for a night. 

Alfred himself was sprawled across a loveseat by himself, a bag of chips on the ground beside him, dressed in a blue pjs top with red firetrucks, and black pyjama bottoms with Captain America's shield. Now Ludwig felt silly in normal work pants and a tee shirt. Similarly, Arthur was in flannel printed pjs. Maybe Ludwig should've worn what he wore for sleep, perhaps that was customary. Ludwig wouldn't know. This was his first sleepover. 

However beside Arthur was Francis, dressed in insultingly short flannel shirts, some kind of white lace button-up lingerie piece and a floor length black silk robe. Ludwig really hoped that wasn't customary. Gilbert, Lovino and Antonio were sitting on the couch, and Matthew was sitting on the floor in front of them. He was situated between Gilbert's legs, one of the squished into his back, and he had in his hands Gilbird. 

Gilbert and Antonio also sported silk black robes, but on top of normal clothing, not lace. Lovino was in an oversized old band tee-shirt that had lettering in Spanish, knee high socks, and looked ready to kill somebody. 

Ivan sat next to Kiku on the floor, the two of them in normal clothing (which for Ivan meant a parka and scarf. China sat with them in a flannel panda onesie, eating Alfred's chips. 

"THE FIRST GAME!!" Alfred announced, "IS ALWAYS NEVER HAVE I EVER!! GET IN A CIRCLE BITCHES!! ITS TIME TO SPILL THE TEA!!" 

"Don't spill the perfectly good gooddamn tea," Arthur muttered, without much venom, and slid to the floor. After much deliberation, Ludwig carefully placed himself into the circle, opposite Feliciano, and next to Frances and Kiku. There was no room next to Feli. 

Ludwig wondered if the other countries did what he did-- deliberated about when it was socially okay to sit next to somebody purposefully. Feliciano was special to him, after all, and they always sat next to each other, especially now a days. If he wanted to sit next to Feliciano, he was sure Kiku wouldn't mind... But he didn't want to just insert himself into the circle.... 

In the time it took Ludwig to spiral into a useless circle of his own thoughts, Alfred had decreed that the game would be played with 10 fingers, not 10 shots, and Feliciano had crawled over several people's laps and into the space between Ludwig and Kiku, fitting easily into Ludwig's side. "Everybody is here!" Feliciano smiled widely up at him. "Now we can play sleepover games!" 

Ludwig blinked. "Hmm? Mmh, ja." 

"ALRIGHT I'LL GO FIRST THEN!!" Alfred yelled. 

Feliciano picked at some of the flannel fabric around Ludwig's knee, "I like your pyjama's, Ludwig." Ludwig looked down at the blue overlapping stripes, dazed. "Thank you," he went to touch Feliciano's knee, and his knuckles brushed against bare skin. Ludwig blushed from his neck up. 

"NEVER HAVE I EVER...." Alfred paused for affect, "LOST A WAR." 

"OH YOU SON OF A--" The room erupted into shouting. "VIETNAM--!!" "THAT WAS A TIE, YOU--!!" "NO IT FUCKING WASN'T!!" "I HAVEN'T--!!" "FRANCIS, YOU BETTER PUT DOWN A GODDAMN FINGER, I SWEAR TO GOD!!" "Define 'war'...." "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD JUST--!!" 

Ludwig quietly tucked down a finger. He liked this game. Its organization. Its simplicity. Its-- 

"NEVER HAVE A EVER FUCKED JUSTIN TRUDEAU." 

If Ludwig had been drinking, he would've sat it out clear across the circle. Francis sat back down clearly pleased with himself, as Matthew slowly descended into his hoodie, his eyes wide and his cheeks blushing a blaring red. 

After a solid minute of laughter, the most prominent of which belonging to Francis himself, Matthew said quietly from inside the hoodie, "define 'fucked'". Even Ludwig laughed. 

"Anything your other papa would consider 'fucking'," Francis responded easily. "Hey!" Arthur squawked indignantly. Matthew re-emerged from the hoodie and nodded sombrely at Francis, putting down his first finger. 

"Good boy!" Francis leaned across the circle to high five Matthew. 

"Never have I ever," said Arthur above the noise, "gotten high." 

"Define 'high'." "OOOOOOH MATT!!" "Alfred! Shut. up." "OOooOOooOOooooooh...."

Ludwig was surprised, Matthew was the first to put his finger down. Arthur glared at him like a disapproving parent and Gilbert laughed openly at him, poking him in the ribs a little with his foot, but it seemed in good fun. Ludwig stared at Gilbert, and when Gilbert noticed he startled, then grudgingly put down a finger himself. 

Beside Ludwig, Feliciano cheerfully put down a finger, and then leaned over to the popcorn bowl. 

"Feli--?" Ludwig began to ask in surprise. The little Italian looked up at him in mock innocence. "What, Ludwig?" From across the circle, Lovino looked at him, and deadpanned, "my bet is on Feliciano getting all ten down first." 

** 

Feliciano got all ten down first. 

**

Lovino was wedged onto a couch made for two people between Gilbert and Antonio and he was a hot second away from first degree murder. When it came to be his turn the first time, he snarkily bit out: "never have I ever had to delete pictures of myself riding a bull in nothing but a madredor's cape off my own phone." Just because he knew would only get out Antonio. 

And A) that would annoy Antonio, which would be like blissful balm on Lovino's burning angry soul, and ease the pain of Antonio's boney-ass hipbone digging into his side. And B) he could play off his snark and not actually have to think of any embarrassing thing he hadn't done. 

Antonio turned and buried his face into Lovino's neck in embarrassment, simultaneously flipping him off.

Concerningly, as Antonio sat back, pouted, and put down a finger, Lovino heard Feliciano mutter to himself, "does burning count as deletion? I think it does." And Feliciano put down a finger himself. 

**

The second time it came time for Lovimo to list something he had not done, he was distracted to say the least. Antonio had kicked his legs up on top of him and Gilbert, and had pulled Lovino's hand into his lap to play with the digits of Lovino's fingers. Sure, Antonio was a touch-oriented guy, and Lovino was okay with that-- if he ever wasn't feeling it, he would tell Antonio (usually loudly)-- but he had been living on his own for 6 months now, and the feeling of careless closeness was jostling. 

Sure, 6 months was nothing for a country. And sure, he still saw Antonio way more than anyone ever should need to. But it was in meetings and in public and -- 

He'd missed Antonio like this, grinning and in rumbled pyjama's, too close for comfort-- boney hips and all. 

"Never have I ever kissed anybody." Lovino said quietly. 

It was true. It was true and he was hundreds of years old and it was true. 

"WHAT??!!" It didn't take long for the entire room to start yelling again. Antonio bolted up to attention, "Lovi! You've never kissed ANYBODY? Ever?!" 

Lovino could feel the heavy weight of a bad, bad decision begin to seep into his bones. He was sure he was bright red and he couldn't so much as look at Antonio or Gilbert, even though Antonio was now tightly clenching his hand. 

"No. I haven't." He said shortly to the wall across the room. 

Nearly everybody was laughing at him, and he hated it. Antonio wasn't laughing at him, but he was tugging incessantly (and increasingly annoyingly) on his hand in an attempt to get his attention. "Cut it out, you jerk bastard!" Lovino hissed, yanking it away.

Finally Lovino gathered the courage to look at his friends. They were all putting down fingers. Well, surely not all. Surely not-- His heart sank, even Kiku was putting down a finger. Lovino wanted to sink into the floor boards. 

Finally Gilbert took pity on him. "Never have I, ze awesome Prussia, ever...." 

**** 

Ludwig supposed that the peace was too good to last. Alfred returned from the kitchen with a twister mat and two bottles of vodka tucked under his arm-- one empty and one full-- and Ludwig sighed. "Alfred, do you not remember vhat happened last time??" He begged, praying to the god of sensibility and reason. 

Alfred smiled wide at him, "Aw that? That was a rocking good time, my man!" He set down the twister mat out of reach and set the vodka in the centre of the circle. "I heard," Alfred began, "that SOMEBODY hadn't had their first kiss." He grinned, and finished, "so I thought of another sleepover classic. ITS SPIN THE BOTTLE TIME, BITCHES." 

Ludwig looked over to see Lovino slowly sink off the couch and onto the floor, glaring hard at his feet. 

Alfred himself scuttled into the centre of the circle, unscrewed both bottles, took a long shot from the full one, and then spun the empty one. It spun for too long, until the entire room was leaning forwards in anticipation. 

Arthur heard the laughter before he registered what was going on. His eyes flashed dangerously as he scuttled away from Alfred, "don't you fucking dare, you bloody--" He quickly backed himself all the way into Francis, who had nowhere to go, and Alfred landed a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth. More his chin really. 

"EW!!" Arthur made a big deal of wiping it off on his sleeve, going so far as to rub his face on Francis' shoulder, all the while cursing venomously. "Your turn, dude," Alfred said cheerily. 

Arthur scooted into the centre of the circle, poured vodka onto his sleeve to further sanitize his chin, and then took a shot. He grimaced, goddamn he hated American alcohol. Bloody-- hold on, this wasn't even Alfred's, this was Ivan's!! He shook his head to clear it. "Spin the bottle, Cheri!" Francis called. 

"Meh, meh, meh, spin the meh," he mocked, but he blushed despite his best efforts. He spun the bottle. "I'm blushing from the vodka, you frog," he called over his shoulder at Francis. "I'm sure you are," Francis laughed. 

The bottle stopped somewhere behind him. God fucking dammit. Not Alfred again. He turned back to see it pointing solidly at the space where he had previously been sitting, directly between Alfred and Francis. God fucking-- 

"That," said Francis quickly, "is most definitely pointing at moi." He opened his arms and smirked, looking for eye contact from Arthur. "Not you frog," Arthur mumbled, feeling like lead, "give me back the other wanker." 

"Come now," the Frenchman said, mock hurt, "you don't mean that! Besides, it is only a kiss on the cheek, Cheri, it is but a hello or goodbye." Arthur slowly crawled towards Francis, his heart beating in his ears. Stupid Francis. At least Arthur had the decency to dress in a flannel night suit. This wanker had to wear some kind of stupid white lace button up thing and a silky floor length robe and -- 

Arthur shut his eyes. He felt soft lips press against his cheekbone once, but he kept his eyes shut tight until he could control his breathing. Those same lips pecked against his, so fast he wasn't even sure it happened, but his eyes flew open in shock. Francis was already "ohonhonhonhon"-ing his way behind Gilbert's couch where Arthur couldn't hit him. 

"Francis!!" Alfred whined, "it's your turn." The Frenchman diked around the couch with surprising agility, avoiding Arthur completely, and took his spin. After doing so, he took a shot of vodka. Which he promptly sprinted and spat out the window. "SACREBLEU THAT IS NOT SPIRITS ALFRED THAT IS HAND SANITIZER!!" 

The bottle had stopped on Antonio. "Toni!" Francis called, closing the window, "I suppose we must kiss now, oui?" But as the Frenchmen sauntered easily over, Lovino stuck out a well timed kick to his shin that sent him sprawling to this ground. His face landed on Toni's feet. 

"Oh, look," Lovino said without looking up, "you kissed his toe. There's your kiss. Well done, you bastard." 

Matthew shuffled forward next, ignoring the mostly full bottle and spinning the empty one. When it landed and Ivan, the Russian looked shocked, and Matthew's eyes widened. Prussia's fists clenched, but Matthew crawled forward easily and placed a light kiss on Ivan's forehead. The boy had so much love to give. 

When he crawled back into his spot on the floor by Gilbert's legs, Matthew laughed at Gilbert pouting. Matthew ducked forward and kissed Gilbert's knee, blushing an even darker red than before as he leaned back against the German. 

**** 

Lovino elected to skip the shot. It was uncharacteristic for him, this much was true, but he was scared after the last time.... He shuddered to think of the last time. So he crawled forward, glared, and spun the empty bottle, his heart pounding. 

What if it wasn't Antonio? What if Francis or Alfred stole his first kiss? He didn't want that! Sue him, he wanted it to be special. What if it WAS Antonio?! Lovino's heart was thumping so loudly he could hear it in his ears. He'd never kissed anybody before. He didn't know HOW. He felt sick. 

The bottle did one last agonizingly slow turn, before pointing at-- Lovino? Was it pointing at himself or-- Behind him on the couch sat Antonio, looking down at him in a mixture of shock and something else. "What are you looking at?! You jerk bastard." Antonio slipped easily onto the ground beside Lovino. 

OH GOD. 

He smiled lopsidedly, and said quietly, "I'm glad it wasn't somebody else, Lovi." Alfred let out a "OOooOOoo!!" 

OH GOD. 

Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovino's neck, his knees pressing into Lovino's side, all tangled up and too close. 

OH GOD. 

Antonio smelled like home. 

OH GOD. 

Lovino couldn't look at his face. His eyes kept flittering around, until finally he squeezed them shut. He could feel Antonio's breath. 

OH GOD. 

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. 

First Antonio's nose, then his lips, bumped up against Lovino's cheek, and a soft kiss was pressed into the side of his face. 

Lovino's eyes flew open in surprise. 

Antonio breathed again, heavily, into the side of his neck, before retracting his arms and clambering back onto the couch. 

Lovino finally remembered to breath, and sucked in a noisy breath. Did Antonio not want to kiss him? Antonio must not want to kiss him. He didn't blame him, not really but-- Lovino felt hot tears behind his eyes and he felt like smashing something. 

Lovino took Antonio's shot, as Antonio spun the empty bottle. When it landed on Feliciano, Ludwig tensed as though ready for a fist fight, but Antonio laughed easily and kissed Lovino's brother on the top of his head. Figures. Feliciano was Ludwig's, nobody was going to question that. But Lovino.... Lovino.... 

**** 

"Dish soap is not part of the guideline booklet for twister!!" Arthur shouted indignantly. "No. But it makes it more fun!!" Alfred shot back, happily expanding the plastic playing sheet. "Alas, mon ami," Francis said to Arthur with a fake pout, "you are outvoted, two to one. Bring on the dish soap!" 

Arthur was defeated by the pout, but looked ready to kill somebody. 

"I don't think it big enough playing board," Yao spoke up, and Kiku audibly stifled a giggle behind him, "we should make two group!" Lovino hurried away from the twister idiots. "Yao, I think that's a great idea," Ludwig hastened to agree. 

"But what should we play, Yao?" Kiku asked. Kiku was shit at acting. "Oh, Kiku, it's funny you ask," Yao turned to the group, "I think we should play classic. Seven minute in heaven." 

Oh today was not Lovino's day. 

Yao, Kiku, Lovino, Antonio, Feliciano, and Ludwig sat in another makeshift circle, with the same bottle in the centre. Lovino glared openly at it. From across the room, there was an audible, "fuck you, baguette man!!" From the twister board. Kiku spun first, and when it finally stopped spinning, it had landed on Feliciano. 

Ludwig flew out a hand and securely attached it to Feliciano's wrist. "Nein," he said, without room for argument. "Aw, Ludwig, we have to play the game," Feliciano sing-songed. He began to wiggle his wrist free. "Nein," was all Ludwig repeated, staring at Kiku. 

Feliciano leaned up and kissed Ludwig on the jaw, starling him enough to wiggle away and dance to the closet. "We have to play the game!!" He called. Kiku shook his head and followed sadly. 

Ludwig stared fuming at the closet door. Even Lovino was slightly scared. 

When Feliciano burst happily out 7 minutes later, he skipped right to Ludwig and sat down in his lap. "Ve, it's like that time the power went out at the ski resort, Ludwig. All dark and adventurous. It was fun but I don't-a really get the point. We just talked about cats and recipes. We could do that here with you guys and it would be just as much fun." 

Kiku shook his head and sat back down. 

Next Antonio spun the bottle and it landed on Ludwig. Ludwig looked up in alarm, as did many others. Lovino stared silently at him. You jerk bastard don't you dare. "Play the game, Ludwig!!" Feliciano urged, hopping out of his lap and pushing him towards the door. Antonio stood too, and walked awkwardly towards the closet. 

The chatter while the two boys were gone was animated and pleasant, but Lovino was on edge, and could barely listen. 

To everyone's surprise, when they emerged 7 minutes later, both boys were laughing, and Antonio smiled ecstatically down at Lovino, saying to Ludwig, "....oh Lovi did too, you know. For YEARS." Then, "my god, you were a cute little bastard, Lovi, but you were SO MUCH WORK!" Ludwig laughed and Lovino blushed and glared, "what are you talking about, you bastard?" 

"Settle down, tomato," Antonio smiled, wiping away a tear, "we're just comparing stories about our Italians." Our Italians. Lovino glared harder. 

It was Lovino's turn to spin the bottle. He did so cautiously, like it was a wild animal, and when it finished spinning it had landed solidly on Antonio. Of course. Of fucking course. 

Today was not Lovino's day. 

**** 

"Fuck you, baguette man!" Francis just laughed in response to Arthur, rolling up his long lace sleeves to the elbows. "I play to win, you bland crumpet." The teasing was different now, instead of harsh it was sickeningly sweet, in its own way. Matthew wasn't sure which kind was worse. 

Matthew regarded the multicolour twister board, currently being dish soaped by Alfred, with resignation. 

"Hello it is I, Prussia the awesome, and I will awesomely spin your awesome twister spinner for you," Gilbert announced. Arthur and Francis stopped their bickering to glance up at him. "Are you avoiding 7 minutes in heaven?" "Or are you just following Mattie around like a lovesick puppy?" 

Gilbert glared at the both of them and said hotly, "neither. Now stop you bickering and explain to me how one plays twister." 

Matthew swore quietly to himself in a mixture of French and English, rolling up his pants. Gilbert was a game-changer. It had been a while since he'd seen a twister board, but you never forget twister with Francis. 

Gilbert spun the spinner with flourish. "Francis! Right hand on red!" Francis stopped poking insults at Arthur long enough to sit down and place a hand on a red circle. The dish soap squeezed out from between his fingers and Matthew grimaced. 

"Arthur! Left hand on blue!" "Alfred! Right foot on green!" "LETS GO I PLAY TO WIN!!" Alfred enthused. "Oh no," said Arthur primly, "I will be beating you AND frogface." "hOW DARE YOU--" 

"This is my family," Matthew deadpanned to Gilbert. Gilbert laughed, and looked like he was about to say something, before spinning the spinner and responding, "Matt, left hand on blue." 

Matthew sat down and squished his hand into a blue spot. He idly realized that dish soap was really going to dry out his skin. 

"Francis, left hand on yellow." Francis leaned in front of Matthew and gave him a grin. Matthew rolled his eyes. "Arthur, right foot on blue." Arthur grumbled something that sounded like "not the frog" and slid a foot under Francis's stomach. 

"Alfred, left hand on blue." Alfred groaned, lying down on the floor. "Birdie, right hand on yellow." Matthew sat down criss-cross on Alfred's back and squished his other hand down down into a yellow spot. 

"Francis, right foot on blue." Francis put a foot on blue but ended up slipping onto his back on the board, his lacy shirt soaked in soap. "Bonjour, Lapin," he purred to Arthur, attempting to be suave. Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Alfred, right foot on blue." Alfred attempted to rise, tumbling Matthew off of him, but Matthew kept hold of his two spots and gave his brother a solid kick for good measure. 

"Birdie, right hand on red." Matthew stretched, feeling the soap soak into his shirt, awesome. However as a happy side affect he kicked Alfred gently in the face. 

"Arthur, right foot on green now." Arthur decided the easiest way to accomplish this would be to sit down completely on Francis. Francis let out a French oof. "Francis, right foot on.... Oh, blue. You're good." "Yay," the Frenchman wheezed in response. "Alfred, left hand on red." Alfred whooped and lay horizontally across both Arthur and Francis. Matthew giggled. 

"Birdie, left hand on blue." Matthew abandoned his spots and sat on top of the rest of them. Francis, Arthur and Alfred groaned loudly in protest. 

****

Antonio stood back up and walked easily to the closet and Lovino followed, two seconds from spontaneous combustion. He didn't deal with emotions well, he turned them all into anger. Shit, he thought, there's a very real possibility I'm going to punch Toni. 

The door clicked shut behind them and Lovino backed himself all the way into a wall, the soft floof of a couple of old coats letting off a small cloud of dust. Antonio seemed completely at ease, but Lovino knew his tells better than anyone alive. He knew when Toni was bluffing in negotiations or on the battlefield. 

Toni was cracking his knuckles and smiling a smile that wasn't lopsided enough. 

"Hey you jerk bastard," Lovino said, finding his voice, "why didn't you kiss me?" The air was thick and Antonio still smelled achingly like home. He was so close. Lovino could feel the heat he let off. He wanted the closeness of the beginning of the evening. Damn Antonio. Lovino swore his needy touch-starved act had rubbed off on him, at least a little. Why else was Lovino aching to wrap his arms around Toni's waist, to bury his nose in Toni's shoulder?

He wanted another kiss on the cheek. OH GOD. He wanted a proper kiss on the lips. 

Antonio was frowning. "Because, Lovi," he said quietly, "I don't like the expression, "steal a kiss". Do you know why?" Lovino was watching his lips in the dim light. "Uh- uh." He shook his head. "Because," Antonio continued, "kisses shouldn't be stolen, especially not a first kiss. Kisses have to be given, as a gift." 

Lovino thought this would make more sense if he could think properly. He leaned back against the coats, trying to catch his breath. "Yeah?" 

OH GOD. 

"Will you give me a kiss, Lovi?" 

OH GOD. 

Lovino stared in shock. Antonio was looking at him dead serious, his smile was hesitant, but now lopsided, as it should be. Lovino didn't know HOW one was supposed to approach a kiss, but goddamn he sure knew the theory of the logistics and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try. 

He leaned forwards, and in one clumsy motion, gripped Antonio's pyjama shirt and connected their lips. Heat rushed through Lovino from head to toe. 

Antonio pulled back and laughed, the beautiful kind of laugh Lovino only saw sometimes. "Hey there, Lovi," he said quietly, leaning in again, this time threading his fingers through Lovino's hair. It was incredibly chaste. But Lovino was shaking. 

Lovino wasn't patient enough for chaste. He leaned his forehead into Toni's and pushed him back towards the opposite wall, hands fisted tightly in his shirt. Toni's mouth opened a fraction of an inch, and Lovino gasped. 

"Lo-- Lo-- Lovi." Toni laughed again and Lovino felt it along everywhere they touched. Antonio had to use his hands to physically pull Lovino off him for a second. "Lovi, you don't know how to kiss, you have to let me lead," he laughed. Lovino growled, and kissed at his hands, pulling them away. "No." 

He went after Antonio again, finally able to breath when he felt Toni's hands in his hair. "Mmh.... Lo.... You suck at this. Come on," Antonio laughed breathlessly between kisses. Lovino pinned him to the wall with two hands to his chest and switched to kissing his neck. Antonio gasped, "I appreciate your enthusiasm though." 

****

Feliciano turned himself around in Ludwig's lap with little effort, and leaned up to whisper in a conspiracy-like tone, "hey. Hey Ludi. Is this a good first sleepover?" Ludwig turned his head so that his lips could brush against the Italian's ear. Soft hair tickled at his eye lashes. "Ja. It is." 

They both looked up in surprise as Alfred flickered the lights. "OKAY, REGROUP TEAM!! ITS TIME FOR TRUTH OR DARE AND SCARY STORIES!! LUDWIG, KIKU, IVAN, GET IN YOU GOSH DARN PYJAMAS!!" If Mother Russia was miffed at being told to get in his "gosh darn pyjamas" he didn't show it. 

Ludwig looked around, unsure. "Feli," he said to the boy in his lap, "you know zhat I sleep in boxers und a tee shirt. Do I.... Uh.... Do I take my pants off now? Or?" Feliciano nodded solemnly. Thank god Kiku was there to yelp, "no, Mr. Germany. Just explain your situation to Mr. America. Do not take off your pants, please." 

Ludwig nodded in understanding, then turned his unamused stare at a rather sheepish Felicano. 

Feliciano happily hopped up and tugged open the door to the closet, causing Antonio and Lovino to tumble out. They both blushed, but it was Lovino who began to throw a slew of Italian curses at his brother, flipping him off with one hand, and hiding his face into Antonio's collar with the other. 

They arraigned themselves back into a sloppy circle, and Alfred turned his full attention on Matthew, a terrifying prospect for anyone. "Matt. Truth or dare?" 

"Truth?" The Canadian set about unrolling a maple themed sleeping bag. 

"Daddy Trudeau, or Baby Trudeau?" Alfred asked conversationally. "Daddy," Matthew answered easily, "do I ask a question now?" Francis choked. 

"Arthur, truth or dare?" Matthew asked shyly. Arthur had went to sit down on the armchair, only to find a certain Frenchman already there. When he'd fallen into Francis' lap, he'd grumbled and elbowed the taller boy, but ultimately he'd made no effort to move, and had allowed Francis to wrap slender arms around his waist, and rest a pocket chin on his shoulder. "Oh, um, truth," Arthur replied. 

"Ask him how he FEELS about Francie," Gilbert hissed, as did several others. Matthew blushed and eventually burst out, "what's your favourite colour!?" Arthur laughed, thanked him, and said, "why, I think it's blue. A nice, light blue." Francis burst out laughing, and buried it in Arthur's shoulder. "My turn?" Arthur asked, blushing, and ignoring him. 

**

"Do you think eggs have feelings?" Gilbert mumbled into the couch pillow his face was smushed into. "Go to sleep, Gilbert," several voices pleaded. 

**

Francis woke up with both of Arthur's little ankle socks balled up under the small of his back, and groaned. 

This awoke Arthur, who breathed in a face full of Francis' hair, coughed and squirmed angrily away from the Frenchman. What had used to be a loving embrace was now a sweaty, confusing hell. He felt his hair sleepily, realizing with a start that the slimy, lemony coating was in fact dish soap. 

Beside him, Lovino was stirring. Somehow Antonio, who had been a safe distance from him falling asleep, was curled entirely on his chest like a a cat. One hand was tightly fisted in the material of lovino's shirt, the other clenching a tomato he whipped out after everyone had fallen asleep. Lovino attempted to sit up, but couldn't move. "Antonio. What the hell?" Antonio smiled and nuzzled into the tomato, "it's my comfort toy, Lovi." 

"You're over a thousand years old!" Lovino burst out, "and you're heaaaaavy! Get offa me!!" Spain let out an oof and then a yelp as he was tumbled to the ground, squishing the tomato. 

Matthew was sleeping like the only sensible person, curled up in a sleeping bag printed with maple leaves, but as the noise level in the room grew, he began to wake up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Gilbert was passed out along side him, with no blanket, but his silk robe tangled over his head. Matthew looked at him and sighed. On matthew's other side was Alfred, blanket less and squirming on the ground, his feet poking into matthew's spleen, and his arms sprawled over Kiku and Yao. 

Kiku and Yao had been up for hours, talking quietly and rolling eyes every time Alfred flailed. 

Feliciano and Ludwig, who had claimed Alfred's couch, slept peacefully through the chaos.


	8. Sightseeing- England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur blushed harder and muttered a quiet, "oh." Francis slipped a hand into his and whispered a quiet, "don't worry, mon cher. Today will go just fine." 
> 
> ** 
> 
> ....Epilouge??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYYY LMAO it's done ..??   
> What even was this   
> A gooooooood time that's what   
> Maybe we will put more chapters in the middle too   
> Like a sandwich   
> It's really fucking late at night TBH I've been up too long   
> AYYYY

Everyone had packed their own lunches. 

Arthur had the entire first day planned down to the second. He was going to take them for a walk through the major landmarks in London, then for tea in this just charming café, his absolute favourite one downtown, and then an evening on the waterfront. The hotel they were booked at was posh but also chic and it had just amazing views from every room. Everybody was going to be so impressed with him, they were going to have so much fun, it was going to be so relaxing--

And everybody had packed enough food like provisions to last for days. 

Arthur tried to will down the disappointment. He GOT it. Nobody liked his food. But seeing Feliciano pull a plastic baggie of pasta out of Ludwig's bag was driving the point home a bit too much. 

He'd gotten a nice car. Granted, it was a few seats less that he had asked for from his government, but it was better than Alfred's stupid paint balling camp van. Besides, the Italians were small, small enough that they didn't need their own seats. Lovino looked happy enough wrapped up in a blanket on top of Antonio. And Feliciano looked happy enough perched on top of Ludwig, squishing the German into his seat and talking animatedly with Kiku about something or other. 

Arthur was in a seat near the front, beside him Francis, who was chattering away over their seat to the seat behind him where Antonio chatted back, and Lovino glared. 

Arthur felt like an idiot tapping on his arm to get his attention. "Do, you, um, think I should cancel tea?" Arthur asked Francis quietly. "What? Non, mon Cher, why would you do that?" 

Arthur glowered at his feet, and responded, "because everybody packed food." Francis laughed, and Arthur almost bristled, until the Frenchman said quietly, "non, non, non petite Lapin. You're jumping to conclusions. Ludwig always brings pasta in his bag for Feliciano." 

Arthur blushed harder and muttered a quiet, "oh." Francis slipped a hand into his and whispered a quiet, "don't worry, mon cher. Today will go just fine." 

**

Nobody was listening. 

They'd started the tour off well. Everybody had oohed and ahhed at the tightly packed downtown street. The sky was dark, but the shopfronts were colourful. Several of Arthur's small party stopped to put on sweaters and coats. 

Now everybody was talking amongst themselves, Arthur tried to raise his voice to say something about the building they were passing. "Go on, Angleterre, I am listening," Francis prodded. "This building is a bank...." Arthur continued, "one of the oldest in England." 

"The arches look like dolphins!" Feliciano responded happily, "say, Arthur! Are we going to get lunch soon?" 

"Tea is just down this street!" Arthur called back. 

The party of nations was loud, too loud really. But the tourist street was full already with hollering and laughing visitors, and they were barely noticed. They ducked into the tea parlour Arthur had booked just as it began to rain. 

It was posh, entirely too expensive for a place that Arthur would frequent, but he had explained to his boss that he was trying to impress a Frenchman-- along with a dozen other nations-- and his boss had immediately coughed up the money. "You show that dirty Frenchman what a real dining experience is like," his boss had demanded proudly. 

The inside was grand and cushioned. It was all gold trimmed spires and pastel pink seat covers. Perhaps to some it looked like a place for old ladies, but Arthur hoped the other nations could appreciate it for it's beauty. 

Somebody took their coats and ushered them into tables. "Look at the little tiny sandwiches!!" Feliciano immediately squealed, picking one up and cooing at it. Ludwig rolled his eyes affectionately and Lovino laughed at his brother. 

Apparently nobody minded Arthur's food if it was in cute, bite-sized, catered towards tourists form. Francis sat across the table from Arthur, and sipped his tea thoughtfully. Arthur went to make a joke about him drinking tea, thought better of it, and did it anyway. "So you've finally realized tea is the ultimate drink?" Arthur teased. Francis only hummed. 

Arthur lifted his own tea cup. It was beautiful. Arthur wondered fleetingly if his obsession with dainty teacup handles had sparked the English trend, or wether his literal duty to represent his country had spark his obsession. 

It had stopped raining by the time the happy group spilled back out of the tea parlour. "Luddi! Look at that pretty shop!" Feliciano tugged the German into a touristy trinket place with all his tiny might. The others followed. 

It wasn't until the sun was setting that Arthur realized he only had half the group left. Goddamnit how many had he lost?! Alfred had run off but returned. Feliciano had gotten tired already, and Ludwig had excused them, saying they were going back to their hotel room. Antonio and Lovino had disappeared somewhere in a clothing shop, and when Francis had texted Toni's phone, it had rung straight to voicemail. Two minutes later they received a text, clearly from Lovino, saying, "goodnight, baguette bastard." 

Matthew had become enamoured with a strange tourist shop advertising various parts of the British Commonwealth abroad- including a Canadian display on maple syrup-- and had yanked Gilbert into it to investigate. Alfred had followed, chattering excitedly, looking for American flags. 

Alfred had emerged, disappointed, but Matthew and Gilbert had not. 

Yao had excused himself also claiming to be tired, although Arthur had the sneaking suspicion that HE wasn't just jumping ship to sightsee with a pretty German. 

Finally only Alfred, Ivan, Kiku, Francis and himself remained. Arthur led the small group towards the waterfront. "This is--" Alfred cut off his clever remark about architecture by hollering "HEY Y'ALL! WATCH THIS!" As Alfred fell from a bike rack he added, "PARKOUR!!" 

Arthur huffed in frustration. "Mon cher?" Francis asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Nobody is listening to me," Arthur murmured in response. "They are having fun," Francis whispered back, his tone conspiratorial and sickeningly patient, "look at our American idiot-" Alfred jumped back on the rack, and Ivan and Kiku laughed "-they're all enjoying England immensely. And Angleterre?" 

"Yes?" 

"I am listening. I want to hear all about your history." 

"Really?" Arthur prodded, "even the architecture joke I was about to bless you with?" 

Francis nodded, and they begun to walk again, "oui, mom Cher. Tell me all about it. Your history is fascinating, and it is made even more so because I don't know every bit of it yet." 

Arthur blushed despite himself, and looked over his shoulder to make sure the others were coming. The city lights reflected off the black water, and the street shone under their feet, still wet from the rain. Arthur smiled. "Well, this building is...."


End file.
